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Fr€D€rick  bSy  Fab<s&  D.D. 


THE  BENSON  LIBRARY  OF  HYMNOLOGY 
Endowed  by  the  Reverend 


Louis  Fitzgerald  Benson,  d.d. 


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LIBRARY  OF  THE  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 
PRINCETON,   NEW  JERSEY 


rrn^  *m±  m  mj  m 


teste. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


http://archive.org/details/hymnOOfabe 


HYMNS 


BY 


FEEDEEICK  WILLIAM  FABEE,  D.D. 

With  a  Sketch  of  his  Life 


Non  vox  sed  votum,  non  chordula  musi  ca  sed  cor, 
Xon  damans  sed  araans,  cantat  in  aure  Dei. 

Gloss,  in  Cap.  Cantantes. 


NEW  YORK 
E.  P.  DUTTON  &  COMPANY 

713    BROADWAY 
1879 


Copyright. 
P.  DUTTON  &  Co. 

1875. 


CONTENTS. 


PART  FIRST. 

GOD    AND    THE    MOST    HOLY   TRINITY. 

PAGE. 

The  Unity  of  God g 

The  Holy  Trinity .     .     .     .     .  10 

Majesty  Divine l  « 

God 16 

The  Eternity  of  God ,  - 

The  Greatness  of  God 20 

The  Will  of  God '.'.'.[  22 

The  Eternal  Father 2- 

Our  Heavenly  Father 2§ 

My  Father „_ 


IV  CONTENTS 

PAGE. 

The  God  of  my  Childhood 32 

The  Eternal  Word 35 

Jesus  is  God 38 

Jesus  my  God  and  my  All 4° 

The  Eternal  Spirit    .     .    . 42 

Veni  Creator 45 

Veni  Sancte  Spiritus 46 

Holy  Ghost,  come  down  upon  Thy  Children    ...  47 

PART    SECOND. 

THE   SACRED    HUMANITY   OF  JESUS. 

The  Life  of  our  Lord 51 

Christmas  Night 67 

The  Infant  Jesus 68 

The  Three  Kings 7° 

The  Purification 73 

Lent 75 

The  Agony 77 

Jesus  Crucified 8o 

The  Precious  Blood 8l 

Blood  is  the  Price  of  Heaven 83 

We  come  to  Thee,  sweet  Saviour 85 

Jesus  Risen °7 

The  Descent  of  the  Holy  Ghost S8 

The  Sacred  Heart 9° 

PART  THIRD. 

THE    FAITH    AND    THE   SPIRITUAL   LIFE. 

Thanksgiving  after  Communion 97 


CONTEXTS.  V 

PAGE. 

Longing  for  God 99 

Evening  Hymn 101 

The  Thought  of  God 10? 

The  Fear  of  God I0- 

Peevishness I08 

Predestination IXI 

The  Right  must  win n^ 

Desire  of  God 117 

School  Hymn I2i 

The  True  Shepherd 122 

Come  to  Jesus 124 

Invitation  to  the  Mission 126 

The  Wages  of  Sin I28 

A  Good  Confession 1  jo 

The  Act  of  Contrition 132 

Conversion 1-6 

The  Work  of  Grace 138 

Forgiveness  of  Injuries 139 

The  World 141 

The  End  of  Man 143 

The  Remembrance  of  Mercy 145 

The  Christian's  Song  on  his  March  to  Heaven.     .     .147 

Fight  for  Sion 148 

Perfection 149 

The  Gifts  of  God 151 

True  Love 154 

Self-love 158 

Harsh  Judgments 160 

Distractions  in  Prayer 164 

Sweetness  in  Prayer  ...     - 167 

Dryness  in  Prayer 168 

The  Pain  of  Love iyi 


VI  CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

Low  Spirits 173 

Light  in  Darkness 175 

Divine  Favors 178 

PART    FOURTH. 

MISCELLANEOUS. 

The  Creation  of  the  Angels 181 

The  Unbelieving  World 183 

The  Old  Labourer 1S6 

Music , 189 

The  Starry  Skies 193 

The  Sorrowful  World 196 

Autumn 200 

PART    FIFTH. 

THE    LAST    THINGS. 

The  Memory  of  the  Dead 203 

The  Eternal  Years 205 

After  a  Death 208 

The  Pilgrims  of  the  Night 211 

Wishes  about  Death 214 

The  Paths  of  Death 216 

The  Length  of  Death 218 

The  House  of  Mourning 221 

The  Violence  of  Grief 225 

Deep  Grief 229 

Grief  and  Loss 23x 

The  Shadow  of  the  Rock 236 


CONTEXTS.  VII 

PAGB 

A  Child's  Death 239 

The  Land  beyond  the  Sea 243 

The  Shore  of  Eternity 245 

Paradise 248 

Heaven 250 


INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES. 


PAGE. 

Ah,  dearest  Lord !  I  cannot  pray l6. 

All  hail !  dear  Conqueror !  all  hail  I  o 

Alone !  to  land  alone  upon  that  shore !  2   - 

Amid  the  eternal  silences " 

At  last  Thou  art  come,  little  Saviour  I  .61 

Autumn  once  more  begins  to  teach 200 

Blest  is  the  Faith,  divine  and  strong I4~ 

Blood  is  the  price  of  heaven g- 

Come!  Holy  Spirit!  from  the  height 46 

Days,  weeks,  and  months  have  gone,  O  Lord   .     .     .229 
Dear  Little  One !  how  sweet  Thou  art 68 


X  INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES. 

PAGE. 

Father  and  God  I  mine  endless  doom 1 1 1 

Father  I  Creator !  Lord  Most  High ! 51 

Father!  the  sweetest,  dearest  Name 25 

Fever,  and  fret,  and  aimless  stir 173 

Fountain  of  Love !  Thyself  true  God ! 42 

Full  of  glory,  full  of  wonders 13 

Gloom  gathered  round  us  every  hour 221 

Hail,  Jesus!  Hail!  who  for  my  sake 81 

Hark!  hark!  my  soul!  angelic  songs  are  swelling      .211 

Have  mercy  on  us,  God  Most  High ! 16 

He  comes !  He  comes !  that  mighty  Breath  ....&& 
Holy  Ghost !  come  down  upon  Thy  children     ...    47 

How  gently  flow  the  silent  years 99 

How  pleasant  are  thy  paths,  O  Death ! 216 

How  shalt  thou  bear  the  Cross  that  now 205 

How  the  light  of  heaven  is  stealing 138 

I  come  to  Thee  once  more,  my  God 143 

I  heard  the  wild  beasts  in  the  woods  complain  .     .     .196 

I  was  wandering  and  weary I22 

I  wish  to  have  no  wishes  left  .........  214 

I  worship  Thee,  sweet  Will  of  God ! 22 

In  pulses  deep  of  threefold  Love 181 

Is  this  returning  life  that  thrills 178 

Jesus,  gentlest  Saviour ! 97 

Jesus  is  God !  the  solid  earth 38 

Jesus !  why  dost  Thou  love  me  so  ? 171 

Joy !  Joy !  the  Mother  comes -     .     73 

Lord !  art  Thou  weary  of  my  cry 231 

My  fear  of  Thee,  O  Lord,  exults i°5 

My  God!  how  wonderful  Thou  art 28 

My  God!  who  art  nothing  but  mercy  and  kindness    .   132 
My  Soul!  what  hast  thou  done  for  God?      .     .     .    .  151 


INDEX  OF  FIRST  L1XES.  XI 

PAGE. 

Now  are  the  days  of  humblest  prayer       75 

Now  first  for  thee,  thou  wicked  world, 148 

O  Blessed  Trinity! 10 

O  come,  Creator  Spirit!  come 45 

O  Faith!  thou  workest  miracles 136 

O  God!  that  I  could  be  with  Thee 108 

O  God!  Thy  power  is  wonderful 30 

O  God!  who  wert  my  childhood's  love 32 

O  God!  whose  thoughts  are  brightest  light       .     .     .   i6d 

O  Jesus!  God  and  Man! 121 

0  Jesus!  if  in  days  gone  by 141 

O  Jesus,  Jesus!  dearest  Lord! 40 

O  Lord !  my  heart  is  sick 17 

O  Lord!  when  I  look  o'er  the  wide-spreading  world  .   1S3 

O  Mijesty  unspeakable  and  dread! 20 

O  merciful  Father!  the  blow  that  we  feared     .    .    .225 

O  Paradise!  O  Paradise! 24S 

O  Soul  of  Jesus,  sick  to  death! 77 

Oh  come  and  mourn  with  me  awhile! So 

Oh  come  to  the  merciful  Saviour  who  calls  you      .     .126 

Oh  do  you  hear  that  voice  from  heaven 139 

Oh  for  freedom,  for  freedom  in  worshipping  God  .     .117 

Oh  for  the  happy  days  gone  by 16S 

Oh  how  the  thought  of  God  attracts         1 49 

Oh  I  could  go  through  all  life's  troubles  singing     .     .  15S 

Oh  it  is  hard  to  work  for  God 113 

Oh  it  is  sweet  to  think 203 

Oh  what  are  the  wages  of  sin 12S 

Oh  what  is  this  splendour  that  beams  on  me  now?     .  250 

One  God!  one  Majesty! q 

Once  in  the  simple  thought  of  God 175 

Souls  of  men!  why  will  ye  scatter 124 


XII 


INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES. 


Sweet  Saviour,  bless  us  ere  we  go ioi 

Sweet  Saviour!  take  me  by  the  hand 218 

That  music  breathes  all  through  my  spirit     .     .     ,        jgg 
The  chains  that  have  bound  me  are  flung  to  the  wind  120 

The  grief  that  was  delayed  so  long 208 

The  Land  beyond  the  Sea! 24-? 

The  Shadow  of  the  Rock 236 

The  starry  skies,  they  rest  my  soul 193 

The  thought  of  God,  the  thought  of  Thee     .     .     .     .103 

Think  well  how  Jesus  trusts  Himself 154 

Thou  touchest  us  lightly,  O  God !  in  our  grief  .     .     .  239 
Unchanging  and  unchangeable  before  angelic  eyes    .     90 

We  come  to  Thee,  sweet  Saviour ! 85 

What  end  doth  he  fulfil 186 

Who  are  these  that  ride  so  fast  o'er  the  desert's  sandy 

road 70 

Why  art  thou  sorrowful,  servant  of  God?     ....  145 
Why  dost  thou  beat  so  quick,  my  heart? 167 


*  Frederick  William  Faber,  the  seventh 

child  of  Thomas  Henry  Faber,  Esq.,  of 
Huguenot  origin,  was  bora  on  the  28th  of 
June,  1 814,  at  the  Vicarage  of  Calverley, 
Yorkshire,  England,  of  which  place  his  grand- 
father, the  Rev.  Thomas  Faber,  was  the  in- 
cumbent. From  his  earliest  years  Frederick 
Faber  gave  promise  of  remarkable  power  of 
mind,  which  his  parents,  who  were  persons  of 

•This  sketch  is  compiled  from  "The  Life  and  Letters  oi 

Frederick  Win.  Faber,  1).I»."' 


INTRODUCTION. 


considerable  ability,  carefully  fostered.  Owing 
to  the  death  of  three  children  immediately 
preceding  him,  he  was  the  object  of  his 
mother's  special  affection.  Ardent  and  im- 
pulsive he  entered  upon  everything,  whether 
work  or  play,  with  eagerness  and  determina- 
tion. 

One  of  the  principal  ingredients  in  his  char-' 
acter  was  its  poetic  ekment,  the  development 
of  which  was  materially  assisted  by  the  beau- 
tiful scenes  in  which  his  childhood  was 
passed.  His  mother  died  in  1829,  and  four 
years  later  he  lost  his  father. 

After  studying  at  Harrow  School,  he  entered 
Balliol  College,  Oxford,  in  1832.  His  pre- 
possessing appearance  and  remarkable  talent, 
together  with  conversational  gifts  of  a  very 
high  order,  made  him  a  general  favourite.  His 
religious  ideas  had  already  assumed  a  very 
definite  shape,  for  the  spiritual  training  of  his 
parents  had  indoctrinated  him  with  the  Cal- 
vinistic  views  which  were  traditional  in  his 
family,  and  in  which  there  was  much  to  attract 
him;  his  ardent  nature  was  pleased  with  the 
warmth  of  expression  which  they  encouraged, 
whilst  the  personal  intercourse  between  God 
and  the  soul,  which   their   theory  of  faith   pro- 


I  NT  ROD  L/C  TION.  3 

moted,  was  well  suited  to  one  of  his  affection- 
ate temperament. 

From  the  time  of  his  arrival  at  Oxford,  he 
attended  the  parochial  services  at  St.  Mary's, 
and  soon  became  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of 
the  Rev.  John  Henry  Newman,  then  vicar  of 
that  church  ;  he  also  threw  himself  eagerly  into 
the  great  movement,  begun  in  1833,  for  the 
revival  of  Church  principles,  the  chief  exposi- 
tion of  which  was  the  series  of  "  Tracts  for 
the  Times." 

As  Frederick  Faber  had  always  most  ear- 
nestly desired  to  devote  himself  to  the  service 
of  God,  he  looked  forward  eagerly  to  the  time 
when  he  could  receive  ordination  as  a  minister 
of  the  Church  of  England.  As  soon,  therefore, 
as  his  election  to  a  fellowship  at  University 
College,  in  January,  1837,  gave  him  a  secure 
position,  he  set  to  work  vigourously  at  the  task 
of  preparing  himself  for  orders. 

When  the  long  vacation  arrived  he  took  a 
small  reading  party  to  Ambleside,  near  the 
head  of  Windermere,  and  thus  began  a  con- 
nection with  that  place  which  lasted  foi  many 
years.  Among  the  friendships  which  he 
formed  there,  the  most  valued  was  that  of  Mr. 
Wordsworth,  whose  poetry  had  been  the  ob- 


4-  I  NT  ROD  UC  77  ON. 

ject  of  his  early  admiration,  and  had  contrib- 
uted largely  to  the  formation  of  his  own  poet- 
ical spirit.  In  after  years  he  used  to  describe 
the  long  rambles  which  they  took  together 
over  the  neighbouring  mountains,  the  poet  mut- 
tering verses  to  himself  in  the  intervals  of 
conversation. 

On  the  6th  of  August,  1837,  Frederick  Faber 
received  deacon's  orders  in  St.  Wilfrid's 
Cathedral,  of  Ripon,  from  Dr.  Longley,  his 
old  master  at  Harrow,  and  May  26th,  1839,  he 
received  priest's  orders  from  Bishop  Bagot, 
at  Oxford. 

Much  of  the  next  four  years  was  spent  in 
travelling  on  the  Continent  with  a  pupil,  and 
a  great  change  was  brought  about  in  his  feel- 
ings towards  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  so 
much  so  that  he  was  at  this  time  on  the  point 
of  being  received  into  it. 

On  returning  to  England  in  1843,  Mr. 
Faber  lost  no  time  in  commencing  his  work  at 
Elton,  the  Rectory  of  which  had  been  several 
times  offered  to  him  by  his  college. 

He  had  determined  to  out  aside  for  a  while 
his  long  entertained  doubts,  and  by  putting  the 
powers  of  the  Church  of  England  to  the  test 
oi  practical  work  hoped  to  derive  a  confirma- 


INTRODUCTION.  5 

tion  or  refutation  of  his  opinions  respecting 
them.  Materials  were  not  wanting  for  the  ex- 
ercise of  his  zeal.  The  parish  was  in  evil 
repute  among  its  neighbors,  and  had  become 
almost  a  by-word  for  its  intemperance  and 
profligacy,  but  it  was  not  long  before  the  fruit 
of  Mr.  Faber's  exertions  manifested  itself. 
His  preaching  soon  became  very  popular  and 
the  authority  and  example  of  the  rector  won 
over  the  most  disorderly  to  his  side,  so  that 
regular  devotion  and  honest  recreation  took 
the  place  of  those  scenes  of  dissipation  and 
riot  for  which  it  had  been  notorious. 

Mr.  Faber  remained  in  his  work  in  Elton, 
till  Sunday,  November  the  16th,  1845,  when, 
at  the  evening  service,  he  told  his  people  that 
he  could  not  longer  remain  in  the  communion 
of  the  Church  of  England,  and  must  leave 
them. 

The  next  day  he  was  admitted  into  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church  at  Northampton.  On 
his  return  from  another  visit  to  Rome,  he 
founded  a  Community  at  Birmingham,  and  in 
April,  1849,  moved  to  London,  in  charge  of 
the  Oratory  of  St.  Philip  Neri,  at  the  head  of 
which  he  remained  until  his  death,  Septembei 
26th,  1863,  aged  49  years. 


O  INTR  OD  UC  TION. 

The  present  collection  of  Hymns  was  first 
published  in  1848,  and  consisted  of  a  very  few 
hymns.  It  appeared  again  in  1849,  much  en- 
larged, and  in  1852  a  fresh  edition,  containing 
sixty-six  hymns,  was  published. 

In  1 861,  the  Author  issued  an  edition  with 
[50  Hymns,  in  the  Preface  to  which  he  says  : 
"  This  is  a  perfect  collection  of  the  Hymns, 
the  only  one  ;  but  it  contains  also  an  addition 
of  fifty-six  new  Hymns,  fulfilling  with  tolera- 
ble accuracy  his  original  conception  of  what 
the  Hymn  Book  should  be  and  should  contain. 
It  has  been  asked  for  very  urgently,  and  for 
some  years,  by  several  persons,  who  have  to 
do  with  ministering  to  those  with  whom,  from 
their  being  in  sickness  or  in  sorrow,  the 
effort  of  following  a  connected  prose  book  is 
hardly  to  be  expected." 

This  book  of  selections  from  Faber  s  Hymns 
contains  all  of  the  Author's  latest  revised  edi- 
tion, except  the  Hymns  written  for  the  use  of 
Roman  Catholics,  such  as  those  for  the  fes- 
tivals of  the  Virgin  Mary,  St.  Joseph  and  the 
Holy  Family,  and  for  the  Devotions  in  honour 
of  them,  and  the  Hymns  addressed  to  the 
Angels  and  Saints. 

The  Author,  in  closing  his  Preface,  says— 


INTRODUCTION.  7 

u  It  is  an  immense  mercy  of  God  to  allow  any 
one  to  do  the  least  thing  which  brings  souls 
nearer  to  Him.  Each  man  feels  for  himself 
the  peculiar  wonder  of  that  mercy  in  his  own 
That  our  Blessed  Lord  has  permitted 
these  Hymns  to  be  of  some  trifling  good  to 
souls,  and  so  in  a  very  humble  way  to  con- 
tribute to  His  glory,  is  to  the  Author  a  source 
of  profitable  confusion  as  well  as  of  unmerited 
consolation/' 


PART  FIRST, 
©ob  anis  t\)c  iflost  £)olt>  STrinitg. 

THE  UNITY  OF  GOD. 

One  God !  one  Majesty ! 
There  is  no  God  but  Thee  ! 
Unbounded,  unextended  Unity  ! 

Awful  in  unity, 

O  God !  we  worship  Thee, 

More  simply  one,  because  supremely  Three  ! 

Dread,  unbeginning  One  ! 

Single,  yet  not  alone, 

Creation  hath  not  set  Thee  on  a  higher  throne. 


JO  THE    HOLY     TRINITY. 

Unfathomable  Sea ! 

All  life  is  out  of  Thee, 

And  Thy  life  is  Thy  blissful  Unity. 

All  things  that  from  Thee  run, 

All  works  that  Thou  hast  done, 

Thou  didst  in  honour  of  Thy  being  One. 

And  by  Thy  being  One, 
Ever  by  that  alone, 

Couldst  Thou  do,  and  doest,  what  Thou  hast 
done. 

We  from  Thy  oneness  come, 

Beyond  it  cannot  roam, 

And  in  Thy  oneness  find  our  one  eternal  home. 

Blest  be  Thy  Unity ! 
All  joys  are  one  to  me, — 
The  joy  that  there  can  be  no  other  God  than 
Thee  ! 


THE  HOLY  TRINITY. 

O  Blessed  Trinity  ! 
Thy  children  dare  to  lift  their  hearts  to  Thee, 

And  bless  Thy  triple  Majesty ! 
Holy  Trinity ! 
Blessed  Equal  Three, 
One  God,  we  praise  Thee. 


THE    HOLY    TRINITY.  XI 

O  Blessed  Trinity  ! 
Holy,  unfathomable,  infinite, 

Thou  art  all  Life  and  Love  and  Light. 
Holy  Trinity ! 
Blessed  Equal  Three, 
One  God,  we  praise  Thee. 

O  Blessed  Trinity ! 
God  of  a  thousand  attributes!  we  see 

That  there  is  no  one  good  but  Thee. 
Holy  Trinity  ! 
Blessed  Equal  Three, 
One  God,  we  praise  Thee. 

0  Blessed  Trinity! 
In  our  astonished  reverence  we  confess 

Thine  uncreated  loveliness. 
Holy  Trinity  ! 
Blessed  Equal  Three, 
One  God,  we  praise  Thee. 

O  Blessed  Trinity  ! 
0  simplest  Majesty  !  O  Three  in  One  ! 

Thou  art  for  ever  God  alone. 
Holy  Trinity  ! 
Blessed  Equal  Three, 
One  God,  we  praise  Thee 


I2  THE    HOLY    TRINITY. 

O  Blessed  Trinity ! 
The  Fountain  of  the  Godhead,  in  repose, 

For  ever  rests,  for  ever  flows. 
Holy  Trinity ! 
Blessed  Equal  Three, 
One  God,  we  praise  Thee. 

O  Blessed  Trinity ! 
0  Unbegotten  Father!  give  us  tears 
To  quench  our  love,  to  calm  our  fears. 
Holy  Trinity ! 
Blessed  Equal  Three, 
One  God,  we  praise  Thee. 

O  Blessed  Trinity! 
Bright  Son !   who  art  the  Father's  mind   dis- 
played, 
Thou  art  begotten  and  not  made. 
Holy  Trinity! 
Blessed  Equal  Three, 
One  God,  we  praise  Thee 

O  Blessed  Trinity ! 
Coequal  Spirit !  wondrous  Paraclete  ! 
By  Thee  the  Godhead  is  complete. 
Holy  Trinity ! 
Blessed  Equal  Three, 
One  God,  we  praise  Thee. 


MA7ESTY  DIVINE.  1 3 

O  Blessed  Trinity! 
We  praise  Thee,  bless  Thee,  worship   Thee 
as  one. 
Yet  Three  are  on  the  single  Throne. 
Holy  Trinity  ! 
Blessed  Equal  Three, 
One  God,  we  praise  Thee. 

O  Blessed  Trinity  ! 
In  the  deep  darkness  of  prayer's  stillest  night 

We  worship  Thee  blinded  with  light. 
Holy  Trinity ! 
Blessed  Equal  Three, 
One  God,  we  praise  Thee. 

O  Blessed  Trinity  ! 
Oh  would  that  we  could  die  of  love  for  Thee, 
Incomparable  Trinity! 

Holy  Trinity ! 

Blessed  Equal  Three. 

One  God,  we  praise  Thee. 


MAJESTY  DIVINE. 

Full  of  glory,  full  of  wonders, 

Majesty  Divine  ! 
Mid  Thine  everlasting  thunders 

How  Thv  lightnings  shine  ! 


T4  MAJESTY    DIVINE. 

Shoreless  Ocean  !  who  shall  sound  Thee  r 
Thine  own  eternity  is  round  Thee, 
Majesty  Divine ! 

Timeless,  spaceless,  single,  lonely, 

Yet  sublimely  Three, 
Thou  art  grandly,  always,  only 

God  in  Unity ! 
Lone  in  grandeur,  lone  in  glory, 
Who  shall  tell  Thy  wondrous  story, 

Awful  Trinity  ? 

Speechlessly,  without  beginning, 

Sun  that  never  rose  ! 
Vast,  adorable,  and  winning. 

Day  that  hath  no  close  ! 
Bliss  from  Thine  own  glory  tasting, 
Everliving,  everlasting, 

Life  that  never  grows ! 

Thine  own  Self  for  ever  filling 

With  self-kindled  flame, 
In  Thyself  Thou  art  distilling 

Unctions  without  name ! 
Without  worshipping  of  creatures. 
Without  veiling  of  Thy  features, 

God  always  the  same  ! 


MAJESTY   DIVINE.  I  5 

In  Thy  praise  of  Self  untiring 

Thy  perfections  shine  ; 
Self-sufficient,  self-admiring, — 

Such  life  must  be  Thine  ; — 
Glorifying  Self,  yet  blameless 
With  a  sanctity  all  shameless 

It  is  so  divine  ! 

'Mid  Thine  uncreated  morning 

Like  a  trembling  star 
I  behold  creation's  dawning 

Glimmering  from  afar ; 
Nothing  giving,  nothing  taking, 
Nothing  changing,  nothing  breaking, 

Waiting  at  time's  bar  ! 

I  with  life  and  love  diurnal 

See  myself  in  Thee, 
All  embalmed  in  love  eternal, 

Floating  in  Thy  sea : 
'Mid  Thine  uncreated  whiteness 
I  behold  Thy  glory's  brightness 

Feed  itself  on  me. 

Splendours  upon  splendours  beaming 

Change  and  intertwine  ; 
Glories  over  glories  streaming 

All  translucent  shine  ! 
Blessings,  praises  adorations 
Greet  Thee  from  the  trembling  nations! 

Majesty   Divine  ! 


1 6  GOD. 

GOD. 

Have  mercy  on  us,  God  Most  High ! 

Who  lift  our  hearts  to  Thee ; 
Have  mercy  on  us  worms  of  earth, 

Most  holy  Trinity! 

Most  ancient  of  all  mysteries  ! 

Before  Thy  throne  we  lie ; 
Have  mercy  now  most  merciful, 

Most  holy  Trinity ! 

When  heaven  and  earth  were  yet  unmade, 
When  time  was  yet  unknown, 

Thou  in  Thy  bliss  and  majesty 
Didst  live  and  love  alone  ! 

Thou  wert  not  born ;  there  was  no  fount 
From  which  Thy  Being  flowed ; 

There  is  no  end  which  Thou  canst  reach : 
But  Thou  art  simply  God. 

How  wonderful  creation  is. 

The  work  that  Thou  didst  bless, 
And,  oh  !  what  then  must  Thou  be  like, 

Eternal  Loveliness  ? 

How  beautiful  the  Angels  are, 
The  Saints  how  bright  in  bliss ; 

But  with  Thy  beauty,  Lord !  compared, 
How  dull,  how  poor  is  this ! 


THE    ETERNITY   OF    GOD.  1 7 

No  wonder  Saints  have  died  of  love, 

No  wonder  hearts  can  break, 
Pure  hearts  that  once  have  learned  to  love 

God  for  His  own  dear  sake. 

0  listen,  then,  Most  Pitiful ! 

To  Thy  poor  creature's  heart ; 
It  blesses  Thee  that  Thou  art  God, 

That  Thou  art  what  Thou  art ! 

Most  ancient  of  all  mysteries  ! 

Still  at  Thy  throne  we  lie ; 
Have  mercy  now,  most  merciful, 

Most  holy  Trinity ! 


THE  ETERNITY  OF  GOD. 

O  Lord  !  my  heart  is  sick, 
Sick  of  this  everlasting  change  ; 

And  life  runs  tediously  quick 
Through   its    unresting   race    and  varied 
range  : 
Change  finds  no  likeness  to  itself  in  Thee, 
And  wakes  no  echo  in  Thy  mute  Eternity. 
2 


1 8  THE    ETERNITY  OF   GOD. 

Dear  Lord  !  my  heart  is  sick 
Of  this  perpetual  lapsing  time, 

So  slow  in  grief,  in  joy  so  quick, 
Yet  ever  casting  shadows  so  sublime  : 
Time  of  all  creatures  is  least  like  to  Thee, 
And  yet  it  is  our  share  of  Thine  eternity. 

O  change  and  time  are  storms 
For  lives  so  thin  and  frail  as  ours  ; 

For  change  the  work  of  grace  deforms 
With  love  that  soils,  and  help  that  over- 
powers ; 
And  time  is  strong,  and,  like  some  chafing 
sea, 
It  seems  to  fret  the  shores  of  Thine  eternity. 

Weak,  weak,  forever  weak  ! 
We  cannot  hold  what  we  possess ; 

Youth  cannot  find,  age  will  not  seek, 
O   weakness  is   the  heart's  worst  weari- 
ness : 
But  weakest  hearts  can  lift  their  thoughts  to 
Thee ; 
It  makes  us  strong  to  think  of  Thine  eternity. 

Thou  hadst  no  youth,  great  God, 
An  Unbeginning  End  Thou  art ; 

Thy  glory  in  itself  abode, 
And  still  abides  in  its  own  tranquil  heart : 


THE    ETERNITY   OF    GOD.  1 9 

No  age  can  heap  its  outward  years  on  Thee  : 
Dear    God !    Thou    art   Thyself   Thine    own 
eternity ! 

Without  an  end  or  bound 
Thy  life  lies  all  outspread  in  light ; 

Our  lives  feel  Thy  life  all  around, 
Making  our   weakness  strong,  our  dark- 
ness bright  ; 
Yet  is  it  neither  wilderness  nor  sea, 
But  the  calm  gladness  of  a  full  eternity. 

Oh  Thou  art  very  great 
To  set  Thyself  so  far  above  ! 

But  we  partake  of  Thine  estate, 
Established  in  Thy  strength  and  in  Thy 
love : 
That  love  hath  made  eternal  room  for  me 
In  the  sweet  vastness  of  its  own  eternity. 


Oh  Thou  art  very  meek 
To  overshade  Thy  creatures  thus  ! 

Thy  grandeur  is  the  shade  we  seek ; 
To  be  eternal  is  Thy  use  to  us  : 
Ah  Blessed  God  !  what  joy  it  is  to  me 
To  lose  all  thought  of  self  in  Thine  eternity. 


20  THE    GREATNESS   OF   GOD. 

Self-wearied,  Lord  !  I  come  ; 
For  I  have  lived  my  life  too  fast : 

Now  that  years  bring  me  nearer  home 
Grace  must  be  slowly  used  to   make    it 
last  ; 
When  my  heart  beats  too  quick  I  think  of 
Thee, 
And  of  the  leisure  of  Thy  long  eternity. 

Farewell,  vain  joys  of  earth ! 
Farewell,  all  love  that  is  not  His ! 

Dear  God  !  be  Thou  my  only  mirth. 
Thy  majesty  my  single  timid  bliss ! 
Oh  in  the  bosom  of  eternity 
Thou  does  not  weary  of  Thyself,  nor  we  of 
Thee! 


THE  GREATNESS  OF  GOD. 

O  Majesty  unspeakable  and  dread  ! 

Wert  Thou  less  mighty  than  Thou  art, 
Thou  wert,  O  Lord  !  too  great  for  our  belief, 

Too  little  for  our  heart. 

Thy  greatness  would  seem  monstrous  by  the 
side 

Of  creatures  frail  and  undivine ; 
Yet  they  would  have  a  greatness  of  their  own 

Free  and  apart  from  Thine. 


THE    GREATNESS    OF   GOD.  21 

Such  grandeur  were  but  a  created  thing, 

A  spectre,  terror,  and  a  grief, 
Out  of  all  keeping  with  a  world  so  calm, 

Oppressing  our  belief. 

But  greatness,  which  is  infinite  makes  room 

For  all  things  in  its  lap  to  lie ; 
We  should  be  crushed  by  a  magnificence 

Short  of  infinity. 

It  would  outgrow  us  from  the  face  of  things, 

Still  prospering  as  we  decayed, 
And,  like  a  tyrannous  rival,  it  would  feed 

Upon  the  wrecks  it  made. 

But  what  is  infinite  must  be  a  home, 

A  shelter  for  the  meanest  life. 
Where  it  is  free  to  reach  its  greatest  growth 

Far  from  the  touch  of  strife. 

We  share  in  what  is  infinite  :  'tis  ours, 

For  we  and  it  alike  are  Thine ; 
What  I  enjoy,  great  God  !  by  right  of  Thee 

Is  more  than  doubly  mine. 

Thus  doth  Thy  hospitable  greatness  lie 
Outside  us  like  a  boundless  sea; 

We  cannot  lose  ourselves  where  all  is  home, 
Nor  drift  away  from  Thee. 


2  2  THE    WILL    OF   GOD. 

Out  on  that  sea  we  are  in  harbour  still, 
And  scarce  advert  to  winds  and  tides, 

Like  ships  that  ride  at  anchor,  with  the  waves 
Flapping  against  their  sides. 

Thus  doth  Thy  grandeur  make  us  grand  our- 
selves ; 

'Tis  goodness  bids  us  fear ; 
Thy  greatness  makes  us  brave  as  children  are, 

When  those  they  love  are  near. 

Great  God !  our  lowliness  takes  heart  to  play 
Beneath  the  shadow  of  Thy  state ; 

The  only  comfort  of  our  littleness 
Is  that  Thou  art  so  great. 

Then  on  Thy  grandeur  I  will  lay  me  down  ; 

Already  life  is  heaven  for  me  ; 
No  cradled  child  more  softly  lies  than  I,— 

Come  soon,  Eternity ! 


THE  WILL  OF  GOD. 

I  worship  thee,  sweet  Will  of  God ! 

And  all  thy  ways  adore, 
And  every  day  I  live  I  seem 

To  love  thee  more  and  more. 


THE    WILL    OF    GOD.  23 

Thou  wert  the  end,  the  blessed  rule 
Of  our  Saviour's  toils  and  tears  ; 

Thou  wert  the  passion  of  His  Heart 
Those  Three-and-thirty  years. 

And  He  hath  breathed  into  my  soul 

A  special  love  of  thee, 
A  love  to  lose  my  will  in  His, 

And  by  that  loss  be  free. 

I  love  to  see  thee  bring  to  nought 

The  plans  of  wily  men ; 
When  simple  hearts  outwit  the  wise, 

Oh  thou  art  loveliest  then ! 

The  headstrong  world,  it  presses  hard 

Upon  the  Church  full  oft, 
And  then  how  easily  thou  turnst 

The  hard  ways  into  soft. 

I  love  to  kiss  each  print  where  thou 

Hast  set  thine  unseen  feet : 
I  cannot  fear  thee,  blessed  Will ! 

Thine  empire  is  so  sweet. 

When  obstacles  and  trials  seem 

Like  prison-walls  to  be, 
I  do  the  little  I  can  do, 

And  leave  the  rest  to  thee. 


24  THE    WILL    OF   GOD. 

I  know  not  what  it  is  to  doubt ; 

My  heart  is  ever  gay ; 
I  run  no  risk,  for  come  what  will 

Thou  always  hast  thy  way. 

I  have  no  cares,  O  blessed  Will ! 

For  all  my  cares  are  thine ; 
1  live  in  triumph,  Lord !  for  Thou 

Hast  made  Thy  triumphs  mine. 

And  when  it  seems  no  chance  or  change 
From  grief  can  set  me  free, 

Hope  finds  its  strength  in  helplessness, 
And  gaily  waits  on  thee. 

Man's  weakness  waiting  upon  God 

Its  end  can  never  miss, 
For  men  on  earth  no  work  can  do 

More  angel-like  than  this. 

Ride  on,  ride  on  triumphantly, 
Thou  glorious  Will !  ride  on  ; 

Faith's  pilgrim  sons  behind  thee  take 
The  road  that  thou  hast  gone. 

He  always  wins  who  sides  with  God, 

To  him  no  chance  is  lost ; 
God's  will  is  sweetest  to  him  when 

It  triumphs  at  his  cost. 


THE    ETERNAL    FATHER.  25 

111  that  He  blesses  is  our  good, 

And  unblest  good  is  ill ; 
And  all  is  right  that  seems  most  wrong, 

If  it  be  His  sweet  Will! 


THE  ETERNAL  FATHER. 

Father !  the  sweetest,  dearest  Name. 

That  men  or  angels  know ! 
Fountain  of  life,  that  had  no  fount 

From  which  itself  could  flow  ! 

Thy  life  is  one  unwearing  day ; 

Before  its  Now  Thou  hast 
No  varied  future  yet  unlived, 

No  lapse  of  changeless  past. 

Thou  comest  not,  Thou  goest  not ; 

Thou  wert  not,  wilt  not  be  ; 
Eternity  is  but  a  thought 

By  which  we  think  of  Thee. 

No  epochs  lie  behind  Thy  life ; 

Thou  holdst  Thy  life  of  none : 
No  other  life  is  by  Thy  side  ; 

Thine  is  supremely  lone. 


z6  THE    ETERNAL    FATHER. 

Far  upward  in  the  timeless  past, 
Ere  form  or  space  had  come, 

We  see  Thee  by  Thine  own  dread  light, 
Thyself  Thine  only  home. 

Thy  vastness  is  not  young  or  old ; 

Thy  life  hath  never  grown ; 
No  time  can  measure  out  Thy  days. 

No  space  can  make  Thy  throne. 

Thy  life  is  deep  within  Thyself, 

Sole  Unbegotten  Sire  ! 
But  Son  and  Spirit  flow  from  Thee 

In  co^ternal  fire. 

They  flow  from  Thee,  They  rest  in  Thee, 

As  in  a  Father's  Breast- 
Processions  of  eternal  love, 

Pulses  of  endless  rest ! 

That  They  in  majesty  should  reign 

Coequal,  Sire !  with  Thee, 
But  magnifies  the  singleness 

Of  Thy  paternity. 

Their  uncreated  glories,  Lord  ! 

With  Thine  own  glory  shine ; 
Thy  glory  as  the  Father  needs 

That  Theirs  should  equal  Thine. 


THE    ETERNAL    FATHER.  2/ 

All  things  are  equal  in  Thy  life  : 

Thou  joyst  to  be  alone, 
To  have  no  sire,  and  yet  to  have 

A  coeternal  Son. 

Thy  Spirit  is  Thy  jubilee ; 

Thy  Word  is  Thy  delight ; 
Thou  givest  Them  to  equal  Thee 

In  glory  and  in  might. 

Thou  art  too  great  to  keep  unshared 

Thy  grand  eternity ; 
They  have  it  as  Thy  gift  to  Them, 

Which  is  no  gift  to  Thee. 

We  too,  like  Thy  coequal  Word, 

Within  Thy  lap  may  rest : 
We  too,  like  Thine  Eternal  Dove, 

May  nestle  in  Thy  Breast. 

Lone  Fountain  of  the  Godhead  !  hail ! 

Person  most  dread  and  dear  ! 
I  thrill  with  frightened  joy  to  feel 

Thy  fatherhood  so  near. 

Lost  in  Thy  greatness,  Lord  !  I  live, 

As  in  some  gorgeous  maze ; 
Thy  sea  of  unbegotten  light 

Blinds  me,  and  yet  I  gaze. 


28  OUR    HE  AVE  iv  LY  FATHER. 

For  Thy  grandeur  is  all  tenderness, 

All  motherlike  and  meek ; 
The  hearts  that  will  not  come  to  it 

Humbling  itself  to  seek. 

Thou  feign'st  to  be  remote,  and  speakst 

As  if  from  far  above, 
That  fear  may  make  more  bold  with  Thee 

And  be  beguiled  to  love, 

On  earth  Thou  hidest,  not  to  scare 
The  children  with  Thy  light, 

1  hen  showest  us  Thy  Face  in  heaven, 
When  we  can  bear  the  sight. 

All  fathers  learn  their  craft  from  Thee  ; 

All  loves  are  shadows  cast 
From  the  beautiful  eternal  hil-ls 

Of  Thine  unbeginning  past. 


OUR  HEAVENLY  FATHER. 

My  God !  how  wonderful  Thou  art, 

Thy  Majesty  how  bright, 
How  beautiful  Thy  Mercy-Seat 

In  depths  of  burning  light ! 


OUR    HEAVENLY  FATHER.  29 

How  dread  are  Thine  eternal  years, 

O  everlasting  Lord ! 
By  prostrate  spirits  day  and  night 

Incessantly  adored ! 

How  beautiful,  how  beautiful 

The  sight  of  Thee  must  be, 
Thine  endless  wisdom,  boundless  powei, 

And  awful  purity  ! 

Oh  how  I  fear  Thee,  living  God  ! 

With  deepest,  tenderest  fears, 
And  worship  Thee  with  trembling  hope, 

And  penitential  tears. 

Yet  I  may  love  Thee  too,  O  Lord ! 

Almighty  as  Thou  art, 
For  Thou  hast  stooped  to  ask  of  me 

The  love  of  my  poor  heart. 

Oh  then  this  worse  than  worthless  heart 

In  pity  deign  to  take, 
And  make  it  love  Thee,  for  Thyself 

And  for  Thy  glory's  sake. 

No  earthly  father  loves  like  Thee, 

No  mother  half  so  mild 
Bears  and  forbears,  as  Thou  hast  done, 

With  me  Thy  sinful  child. 


30  MY  FATHER. 

Only  to  sit  and  think  of  God, 

Oh  what  a  joy  it  is  ! 
To  think  the  thought,  to  breathe  the  Name 

Earth  has  no  higher  bliss  ! 

Father  of  Jesus,  love's  Reward ! 

What  rapture  will  it  be, 
Prostrate  before  Thy  Throne  to  lie, 

And  gaze  and  gaze  on  Thee ! 


MY  FATHER. 

O  God !  Thy  power  is  wonderful, 
Thy  glory  passing  bright ; 

Thy  wisdom,  with  its  deep  on  deep, 
A  rapture  to  the  sight. 

Thy  justice  is  the  gladdest  thing 

Creation  can  behold ; 
Thy  tenderness  so  meek,  it  wins 

The  guilty  to  be  bold. 

Yet  more  than  all,  and  ever  more, 
Should  we  Thy  creatures  bless. 

Most  worshipful  of  attributes, 
Thine  awful  holiness. 


MY  FATHER.  31 

There's  not  a  craving  in  the  mind 

Thou  dost  not  meet  and  still ; 
There's  not  a  wish  the  heart  can  have 

Which  thou  dost  not  fulfil. 

I  see  Thee  in  the  eternal  years 

In  glory  all  alone, 
Ere  round  Thine  uncreated  fires 

Created  light  had  shone. 

I  see  Thee  walk  in  Eden's  shade, 

I  see  Thee  all  through  time  ; 
Thy  patience  and  compassion  seem 

New  attributes  sublime. 

I  see  Thee  when  the  doom  is  o'er, 

And  outworn  time  is  done, 
Still,  still  incomprehensible, 

O  God  !  yet  not  alone. 

Angelic  spirits,  countless  souls, 

Of  Thee  have  drunk  their  fill ; 
And  to  eternity  will  drink 

Thy  joy  and  glory  still. 

From  Thee  were  drawn  those  worlds  of  life. 

The  Saviour's  Heart  and  Soul ; 
And  undiminished  still,  Thy  waves 

Of  calmest  glory  roll. 


52  THE    GOD    OF  MY   CHILDHOOD. 

All  things  that  have  been,  all  that  are, 
All  things  that  can  be  dreamed, 

All  possible  creations,  made, 
Kept  faithful,  or  redeemed, — 

All  these  may  draw  upon  Thy  power, 
Thy  mercy  may  command ; 

And  still  outflows  Thy  silent  sea, 
Immutable  and  grand. 

0  little  heart  of  mine  !  shall  pain 
Or  sorrow  make  thee  moan, 

When  all  this  God  is  all  for  Thee, 
A  Father  all  thine  own  ? 


THE  GOD  OF  MY  CHILDHOOD. 

0  God  !  who  wert  my  childhood's  love, 

My  boyhood's  pure  delight, 
A  presence  felt  the  livelong  day, 

A  welcome  fear  at  night, — 

Oh  let  me  speak  to  Thee,  dear  God ! 

Of  those  old  mercies  past, 
O'er  which  new  mercies  day  by  day 

Such  lengthening  shadows  cast. 


THE    GOD    OF   MY   CHILDHOOD.  5$ 

They  bade  me  call  Thee  Father,  Lord  ! 

Sweet  was  the  freedom  deemed, 
And  yet  m^re  like  a  mother's  ways 

Thy  quiet  mercies  seemed. 

At  school  Thou  wert  a  kindly  Face 

Which  I  could  almost  see  ; 
But  home  and  holvday  appeared 

Somehow  more  full  of  Thee. 

I  could  not  sleep  unless  Thy  Hand 

Were  underneath  my  head, 
That  I  might  kiss  it,  if  I  lay 

Wakeful  upon  my  bed. 

And  quite  alone  I  never  felt, — 

I  knew  that  Thou  wert  near, 
A  silence  tingling  in  the  room, 

A  strangely  pleasant  fear. 

And  to  home-Sundays  long  since  past 

How  fondly  memory  clings  ; 
For  then  my  mother  told  of  Thee 

Such  sweet,  such  wondrous  things. 

I  know  not  what  I  thought  of  Thee, 

What  picture  I  had  made 
Of  that  eternal  Majesty 

To  whom  my  childhood  prayed. 
3 


34  THE    GOD    OF   MY    CHILDHOOD. 

I  know  I  used  to  lie  awake, 

And  tremble  at  the  shape 
Of  my  own  thoughts,  yet  did  not  wish 

Thy  terrors  to  escape. 

I  had  no  secrets  as  a  child, 

Yet  never  spoke  of  Thee  ; 
The  nights  we  spent  together,  Lord ! 

Were  only  known  to  me. 

I  lived  two  lives,  which  seemed  distinct. 

Yet  which  did  intertwine  : 
One  was  my  mother's — it  is  gone — 

The  other,  Lord !  was  Thine. 

I  never  wandered  from  Thee,  Lord  ! 

But  sinned  before  Thy  Face  ; 
Yet  now,  on  looking  back,  my  sins 

Seem  all  beset  with  grace. 

With  age  Thou  grewest  more  divine, 
More  glorious  than  before  ; 

I  feared  Thee  with  a  deeper  fear. 
Because  I  loved  Thee  more. 

Thou  broadenest  out  with  every  year, 
Each  breadth  of  life  to  meet : 

I  scarce  can  think  Thou  art  the  same, 
Thou  art  so  much  more  sweet. 


THE    ETERNAL    WORD.  35 

Changed  and  not  changed,  Thy  present  charms 

Thy  past  ones  only  prove ; 
Oh  make  my  heart  more  strong  to  bear 

This  newness  of  Thy  love ! 

These  novelties  of  love  ! — when  will 

Thy  goodness  find  an  end  ? 
Whither  will  Thy  compassions,  Lord  ! 

Incredibly  extend  ? 

Father !  what  hast  Thou  grown  to  now  f 

A  joy  all  joys  above, 
Something  more  sacred  than  a  fear, 

More  tender  than  a  love  ! 

With  gentle  swiftness  lead  me  on, 

Dear  God  !  to  see  Thy  Face  ; 
And  meanwhile  in  my  narrow  heart 

Oh  make  Thyself  more  space  ! 


THE  ETERNAL  WORD. 

Amid  the  eternal  silences 

God's  endless  Word  was  spoken  ; 
None  heard  but  He  who  always  spake, 

And  the  silence  was  unbroken. 


36  the  eternal  word. 

Chorus. 
Oh  marvellous  !  Oh  worshipful ! 

No  song  or  sound  is  heard, 
But  everywhere  and  every  hour, 
In  love,  in  wisdom,  and  in  power, 
The  Father  speaks  His  dear  Eternal  Word  ■ 

For  ever  in  the  eternal  land 
The  glorious  day  is  dawning; 

For  ever  is  the  Father's  Light 

Like  an  endless  outspread  morning. 

From  the  Father's  vast  tranquillity. 

In  light  coequal  glowing 
The  kingly  consubstantial  Word 

Is  unutterably  flowing. 

For  ever  climbs  that  Morning  Star 

Without  ascent  or  motion; 
For  ever  is  its  daybreak  shed 

On  the  Spirit's  boundless  ocean. 

O  Word  !  who  fitly  can  adore 

Thy  Birth  and  Thy  Relation, 
Lost  in  the  impenetrable  light 

Of  Thine  awful  Generation  ? 

Thy  Father  clasps  Thee  evermore 

In  unspeakable  embraces, 
While  angels  tremble  as  they  praise. 

And  shroud  their  dazzled  faces. 


THE  ETERNAL   WORT).  37 

And  oh  !  in  what  abyss  of  love, 

So  fiery  yet  so  tender, 
The  Holy  Ghost  encircles  Thee 

With  His  uncreated  splendour ! 

O  Word !  O  dear  and  gentle  Word  ! 

Thy  creatures  kneel  before  Thee, 
And  in  extacies  of  timid  love 

Delightedly  adore  Thee. 

Hail  choicest  mystery  of  God  ! 

Hail  wondrous  Generation  ! 
The  Father's  self-sufficient  rest ! 

The  Spirit's  jubilation  ! 

Dear  Person  !  dear  beyond  all  words, 

Glorious  beyond  all  telling  ! 
Oh  with  what  songs  of  silent  love 

Our  ravished  hearts  are  swelling  ! 

Chorus. 

O  !  marvellous  !  O  worshipful ! 

No  song  or  sound  is  heard, 

But  everywhere  and  every  hour, 

In  love,  in  wisdom,  and  in  power, 

The  Father  speaks  His  dear  Eternal  Word  ! 


38  JESUS  IS  GOD. 


JESUS  IS  GOD. 

Jesus  is  God  !  The  solid  earth, 

The  ocean  broad  and  bright, 
The  countless  stars,  like  golden  dust, 

That  strew  the  skies  at  night, 
The  wheeling  storm,  the  dreadful  fire, 

The  pleasant  wholesome  air, 
The  summer's  sun,  the  winter's  frost, 

His  own  creations  were. 

Jesus  is  God!  The  glorious  bands 

Of  golden  angels  sing 
Songs  of  adoring  praise  to  Him, 

Their  Maker  and  their  King. 
He  was  true  God  in  Bethlehem's  crib, 

On  Calvary's  cross  true  God, 
He  who  in  heaven  eternal  reigned, 

In  time  on  earth  abode. 

Jesus  is  God !  There  never  was 

A  time  when  He  was  not : 
Boundless,  eternal,  merciful, 

The  Word  the  Sire  begot ! 
Backward  our  thoughts  through  ages  stretch 

Onward  through  endless  bliss,— 
For  there  are  two  eternities, 

And  both  alike  are  His  ! 


JESUS  IS  GOD,  39 


Jesus  is  God  !  Alas  !  they  say 

On  earth  the  numbers  grow. 
Who  His  Divinity  blaspheme 

To  their  unfailing  woe. 
And  yet  what  is  the  single  end 

Of  this  life's  mortal  span, 
Except  to  glorify  the  God 

Who  for  our  sakes  was  man  ? 


Jesus  is  God  !  Let  sorrow  come, 

And  pain,  and  every  ill ; 
All  are  worth  while,  for  all  are  means 

His  glory  to  fulfil; 
Worth  while  a  thousand  years  of  life 

To  speak  one  little  word, 
If  by  our  Credo  we  might  own 

The  Godhead  of  our  Lord  ! 


Jesus  is  God !  Oh  could  I  now 

But  compass  land  and  sea, 
To  teach  and  tell  this  single  truth, 

How  happy  should  I  be  ! 
O  had  I  but  an  angel's  voice 

I  would  proclaim  so  loud,- 
Jesus,  the  good,  the  beautiful, 

Is  everlasting  God. 


4-0  JESUS  MY  GOD  AND  MY  ALL. 

Jesus  is  God  !  If  on  the  earth 

This  blessed  faith  decays, 
More  tender  must  our  love  become, 

More  plentiful  our  praise. 
We  are  not  angels,  but  we  may 

Down  in  earth's  corners  kneel, 
And  multiply  sweet  acts  of  love, 

And  murmur  what  we  feel. 


JESUS  MY  GOD  AND  MY  ALL. 

0  Jesus,  Jesus  !  dearest  Lord ! 
Forgive  me  if  I  say 

For  very  love  Thy  Sacred  Name 
A  thousand  times  a  day. 

1  love  Thee  so,  I  know  not  how 
My  transports  to  control ; 

Thy  love  is  like  a  burning  fire 
Within  my  very  soul. 

Oh  wonderful !  that  Thou  shouldst  let 

So  vile  a  heart  as  mine 
Love  Thee  with  such  a  love  as  this, 

And  make  so  free  with  Thine. 


JESUS  MY  GOD  AND  MY  ALL.  4 1 


The  craft  of  this  wise  world  of  ours 
Poor  wisdom  seems  to  me ; 

Ah  !  dearest  Jesus  !  I  have  grown 
Childish  with  love  of  Thee  ! 

For  Thou  to  me  art  all  in  all, 
My  honour  and  my  wealth. 

My  heart's  desire,  my  body's  strength, 
My  souls  eternal  health. 

Burn,  burn,  0  Love  !  within  my  heart, 
Burn  fiercely  night  and  day, 

Till  all  the  dross  of  earthly  loves 
Is  burned,  and  burned  away. 

O  Light  in  darkness,  Joy  in  grief, 
O  Heaven  begun  on  earth  ! 

Jesus  my  Love  !  my  Treasure  !  who 
Can  tell  what  Thou  art  worth  ? 

O  Jesus  !  Jesus  !  sweetest  Lord  ! 

What  art  thou  not  to  me  ? 
Each  hour  brings  joy  before  unknown, 

Each  day  new  liberty  ! 

What  limit  is  there  to  thee,  love  ? 

Thy  flight  where  wilt  thou  stay  ? 
On !  on  !  our  Lord  is  sweeter  far 

To-day  than  yesterday. 


4-2  THE  ETERNAL  SPIRIT. 

O  love  of  Jesus  !  Blessed  love  ! 

So  will  it  ever  be  ; 
Time  cannot  hold  thy  wondrous  growth, 

No,  nor  eternity ! 


THE  ETERNAL  SPIRIT. 

Fountain  of  Love  !  Thyself  true  God ! 

Who  through  eternal  days 
From  Father  and  from  Son  hast  flowed 

In  uncreated  ways ! 

O  Majesty  unspeakable  ! 

O  Person  all  divine  ! 
How  in  the  Threefold  Majesty 

Doth  Thy  Procession  shine  ! 

Fixed  in  the  Godhead's  awful  light 
Thy  fiery  Breath  doth  move  ; 

Thou  art  a  wonder  by  Thyself 
To  worship  and  to  love  ! 

Proceeding,  yet  of  equal  age 
With  those  whose  love  Thou  art : 

Proceeding,  yet  distinct,  from  those 
From  whom  Thou  seem'st  to  part : 


THE  ETERNAL  SPIRIT.  43 

An  undivided  Nature  shared 

With  Father  and  with  Son  ; 
A  Person  by  Thyself ;  with  Them 

Thy  simple  essence  One  ; 

Bond  art  Thou  of  the  other  Twain ! 

Omnipotent  and  free  ! 
The  consummating  Love  of  God ! 

The  Limit  of  the  Three  ! 

Thou  limitest  infinity, 

Thyself  all  infinite ; 
The  Godhead  lives,  and  loves,  and  rests, 

In  Thine  eternal  light. 

I  dread  Thee,  Unbegotten  Love ! 

True  God !  sole  Fount  of  Grace  ! 
And  now  before  Thy  Blessed  throne 

My  sinful  self  abase. 

Ocean,  wide-flowing  Ocean,  Thou, 

Of  uncreated  Love  ; 
I  tremble  as  within  my  soul 

I  feel  Thy  waters  move. 

Thou  art  a  sea  without  a  shore  ; 

Awful,  immense  Thou  art ; 
A  sea  which  can  contract  itself 

Within  my  narrow  heart. 


£4  THE  ETERNAL  SPIRIT, 

And  yet  Thou  art  a  haven  too 

Out  on  the  shoreless  sea, 
A  harbor  that  can  hold  full  well 

Shipwrecked  Humanity. 

Thou  art  an  unborn  Breath  outbreathed 

On  angels  and  on  men, 
Subduing  all  things  to  Thyself, 

We  know  not  how  or  when. 

Thou  art  a  God  of  fire,  that  doth 
Create  while  He  consumes  ! 

A  God  of  light,  whose  rays  on  earth 
Darken  where  He  illumes ! 

All  things !  dread  Spirit !  to  Thy  praise 
Thy  Presence  doth  transmute  ; 

Evil  itself  Thy  glory  bears, 
Its  one  abiding  fruit  ! 

O  Light !  O  Love !  O  very  God 

I  dare  no  longer  gaze 
Upon  Thy  wondrous  attributes, 

And  their  mysterious  ways. 

O  Spirit,  beautiful  and  dread  ! 

My  heart  is  fit  to  break 
With  love  of  all  Thy  tenderness 

For  us  poor  sinners'  sake. 


VENI  CREA  TOR.  45 

Thy  love  of  Jesus  I  adore  ; 

My  comfort  this  shall  be, 
That,  when  I  serve  my  dearest  Lord, 

That  service  worships  Thee  ! 


VENI   CREATOR. 

O  come,  Creator  Spirit !  come, 
Vouchsafe  to  make  our  minds  Thy  home  ; 
And  with  Thy  heavenly  grace  fulfill 
The  hearts  Thou  madest  at  Thy  will. 

Thou  that  art  named  the  Paraclete, 
The  gift  of  God,  His  Spirit  sweet ; 
The  Living  Fountain,  Fire  and  Love, 
\nd  gracious  Unction  from  above. 

Thy  sevenfold  grace  Thou  dost  expand, 
O  Finger  of  the  Father's  Hand  ; 
True  Promise  of  the  Father,  rich 
In  gifts  of  tongue  and  various  speech. 

Kindle  our  senses  with  Thy  light, 
And  lead  our  hearts  to  love  aright : 
Stablish  our  weakness,  and  refresh 
With  fortitude  our  fainting  flesh. 


46  VENI  SANCTE  SPIRITUS. 

Repel  far  off  our  deadly  foe, 
And  peace  on  us  forthwith  bestow ; 
With  Thee  for  Guide  we  need  not  fear, 
Where  Thou  art,  evil  comes  not  near. 

By  Thee  the  Father  let  us  bless, 
By  Thee  the  Eternal  Son  confess. 
And  Thee  Thyself  we  evermore, 
The  Spirit  of  Them  Both,  adore. 

To  God  the  Father  let  us  raise, 
And  to  his  only  Son,  our  praise  : 
Praise  to  the  Holy  Spirit  be 
Now  and  for  all  eternity. 


VENI  SANCTE  SPIRITUS. 

Come,  Holy  Spirit!  from  the  height 
Of  heaven  send  down  Thy  blessed  light ! 

Come,  Father  of  the  friendless  poor! 
Giver  of  gifts,  and  Light  of  hearts, 
Come  with  that  unction  which  imparts 

Such  consolations  as  endure. 


HOLY   GHOST,    COME    DOWN,    ETC.        47 

The  Soul's  Refreshment  and  her  Guest, 
Shelter  in  heat,  in  labour  Rest, 

The  sweetest  Solace  in  our  woe ! 
Come,  blissful  Light !  oh  come  and  fill. 
In  all  Thy  faithful,  heart  and  will, 

And  make  our  inward  fervour  glow. 

Where  Thou  art,  Lord!  there  is  no  ill, 
For  evil's  self  Thy  light  can  kill  : 

Oh  let  that  light  upon  us  rise  ! 
Lord  !  heal  our  wounds,  and  cleanse  our 

stains, 
Fountain  of  grace  !  and  with  Thy  rains 

Our  barren  spirits  fertilize. 

Bend  with  Thy  fires  our  stubborn  will, 
And  quicken  what  the  world  would  chill, 

And  homeward  call  the  feet  that  stray  : 
Virtue's  reward,  and  final  grace, 
The  Eternal  Vision,  face  to  face, 

Spirit  of  Love  !  for   these  we  pray. 


HOLY    GHOST,    COME    DOWN    UPON 
THY  CHILDREN. 

Holy  Ghost !  come  down  upon   Thy  children, 
Give  us  grace,  and  make  us  Thine  ; 

Thy  tender  fires  within  us  kindle, 
Blessed  Spirit !  Dove  Divine  ! 


4-0        HOLY    GHOST,    COME    DOWN,    ETC. 

For  all  within  us  good  and  holy 

Is  from  Thee,  Thy  precious  gift; 
In  all  our  joys,  in  all  our  sorrows, 
Whistful  hearts  to  Thee  we  lift. 
Holy  Ghost!  come  down  upon  Thy  chil 
dren, 
Give  us  grace,  and  make  us  Thine  ; 
Thy  tender  fires  within  us  kindle, 
Blessed  Spirit !  Dove  Divine  ! 

For  Thou  to  us  art  more  than  father, 

More  than  sister,  in  Thy  love, 
So  gentle,  patient,  and  forbearing 
Holy  Spirit !  heavenly  Dove  ! 
Holy  Ghost!  come  down  upon    Thy  chil- 
dren, 
Give  us  grace,  and  make  us  Thine  ; 
Thy  tender  fires  within  us  kindle, 
Blessed  Spiiit!  Dove  Divine! 

Oh  we  have  grieved  Thee,  gracious  Spirit ! 

Wayward,  wanton,  cold  are  we  ; 
And  still  our  sins,  new  every  morning, 
Never  yet  have  wearied  Thee. 
Holy  Ghost !  come  down  upon  Thy  chil- 
dren, 
Give  us  grace,  and  make  us  Thine ; 
Thy  tender  fires  within  us  kindle 
Blessed  Spirit !  Dove  Divine ! 


HOLY   GHOST,    COME    DOWN,    ETC.       49 

Dear  Paraclete  !  how  hast  Thou  waited, 
While  our  hearts  were  slowly  turned ! 
How  often  hath  Thy  love  been  slighted, 
While  for  us  it  grieved  and  burned  ! 
Holy  Ghost  !   come  down  upon  Thy  chil- 
dren, 
Give  us  grace,  and  make  us  Thine  : 
Thy  tender  fires  within  us  kindle, 
Blessed  Spirit !  Dove  Divine  ! 

Now,  if  our  hearts  do  not  deceive  us, 
We  would  take  Thee  for  our  Lord  ! 
O  dearest  Spirit !  make  us  faithful 
To  Thy  least  and  lightest  word. 
Holy  Ghost  !  come  down  upon  Thy  chil- 
dren, 
Give  us  grace,  and  make  us  Thine  ; 
Thy  tender  fires  within  us  kindle, 
Blessed  Spirit !  Dove  Divine! 

Ah!  sweet  Consoler !  though  we  cannot 

Love  Thee  as  Thou  lovest  us, 
Vet,  if  Thou  deign'st  our  hearts  to  kindle, 
They  will  not  be  always  thus. 
Holy  Ghost  !  come  down  upon  Thy   chil- 
dren, 
Give  us  grace,  and  make  us  Thine  ; 
Thy  tender  fires  within  us  kindle, 
Blessed  Spirit !  Dove  Divine  ! 
4 


50        HOLY   GHOST,    COME    DOWN,    ETC. 

With  hearts  so  vile  how  dare  we  venture, 

Holy  Ghost !  to  love  Thee  so  ? 
~\nd  how  canst  Thou,  with  such  compassion , 
Bear  so  long  with  things  so  low  ? 
Holy  Ghost!  come  down  upon  Thy  chi) 
dren, 
Give  us  grace,  and  make  us  Thine ; 
Thy  tender  fires  within  us  kindle, 
Blessed  Spirit !  Dove  Divine  ! 


PART  SECOND. 
gil)e  Sacreb  ^ximanitij  of  3esus. 

THE  LIFE  OF  OUR  LORD. 

PARAPHRASED  FROM  THE  PARADISUS  ANIMA 

Father!  Creator!  Lord  Most  High ! 
Sweet  Jesus  !  Fount  of  Clemency  ! 
Blest  Spirit !  who  dost  sanctify  ! 

God  ruling  over  all ! 
The  Dolours  Christ  did  once  endure, 
Oh  grant  that  I,  with  spirit  pure, 

Devoutly  may  recall. 


52  THE  LIFE  OF  OUR  LORD. 

Jesus  !  Thou  didst  a  Mother  choose, 

Whose  Seed  the  serpent's  head  should  bruise, 

Seed  of  a  Virgin  Womb  ; 
Oh  bruise  that  serpent  now  in  me, 
Bruise  him,  good  Lord !  that  I  may  be 

Thine  at  the  Day  of  Doom. 

Jesus  !  the  saint  in  spirit  soar, 
Where  angels  hymn  for  evermore 

The  Judge  who  shall  appear  ; 
Receive  a  suppliant  that  would  raise 
His  voice  unto  that  choir  of  praise, 

But  is  half  mute  through  fear. 

I.    THE  INFANCY  AND  YOUTH  OF  OUR  SAVIOUP, 
TILL   HIS   BAPTISM. 

Jesus  !  who  from  Thy  Throne  didst  come, 
And  man's  most  vile  estate  assume, 

Our  fallen  race  to  lift, 
Oh  grant  that  such  transcending  love 
To  me  through  Thine  own  grace,  may  prove 

No  ineffectual  gift. 

Jesus  !  whom  Mary  once  conceived 
Through  grace,  her  backward  fears  relieved 

By  angel's  salutation, 
May  I,  within  a  chastened  heart, 
Conceive  Thee,  Living  Word,  who  art 

My  God  and  my  Salvation. 


THE  LIFE  OF  OUR  LORD.  53 

Jesus  !  whom  Thy  sweet  Mother  bore 
To  Saint  Elizabeth  of  yore, 

On  Jewry's  mountain  lea; 
Oh  mayst  Thou  oft,  in  ways  concealed, 
To  heart  but  not  to  eye  revealed, 

Vouchsafe  to  visit  me. 

Jesus  !  kind  visitant  of  earth, 
Of  sinless  and  of  painless  birth, 

Thy  Mother's  only-born, 
May  love  with  undiverted  flame 
Ascend,  and  for  Thy  glorious  Name 

All  other  nuptials  scorn. 

Jesus !  the  spacious  world  was  Thine, 
Yet,  when  Thou  wouklst  Thy  head  recline, 

It  scarce  found  room  for  Thee ; 
And  oh  !  shall  sinf  al  man  be  bent 
On  self-sought  greatness,  not  content 

With  Christ-like  poverty  ? 

Jesus  !  for  whom  the  Shepherds  sought 
As  Infant,  by  the  angels  taught 

From  out  the  midnight  sky, 
Oh  may  I  love  Thy  praise  on  earth, 
That  I  may  one  day  share  the  mirth 

Of  angel  hosts  on  high. 


54  THE  LIFE  OF  OUR  LORD. 

Jesus  !  my  God  and  Saviour,  Thou, 
Sinless,  didst  as  a  sinner  bow 

To  ordinance  divine  : 
Oh  curb  my*  loose  and  wandering  eyes, 
Prune  my  self-will,  and  circumcise 

This  carnal  heart  of  mine. 

Jesus  !  before  Thy  manger,  kings 
Lay  prostrate  with  their  offerings. 

A  most  unworldly  throne  ; 
Thou  to  my  cradle  earnest,  Lord, 
With  gifts  invisibly  outpoured 

From  waters  of  Thine  own. 

Jesus  !  whom  Thy  meek  Mother  vowed 
To  God,  whose  law  would  have  allowed 

Her  first-born  to  go  free, 
Oh  give  me  such  a  humble  mind, 
That  in  obedience  I  may  find 

The  choicest  liberty. 

Jesus  !  sweet  fugitive,  who  fled 
From  Herod's  bloody  net  outspread 

For  Thy  dear  Infancy, 
Give  me,  O  Lord,  like  modest  care 
To  fly  the  world  when  it  speaks  fair, 

To  steal  Thy  grace  away. 


THE  LIFE  OF  OUR  LORD.  55 

Jesus!  whom  Thy  sad  Mother  sought. 
And  in  the  temple  found,  who  taught 

The  aged  in  Thy  youth : 
How  blest  are  they  who  keep  aright, 
Or  find,  when  lost,  the  living  light 

Of  Thine  eternal  truth  ! 

O  Creator!  hear  Thy  creatures, 
Saviour  !  hear  us  when  we  pray  ; 
Thou  who  dost  renew  our  natures, 
Good  Spirit !  give  us  hearts  to  say, 
Deus  meus  et  omnia  ! 

2.  the  life  of  our  saviour  till  his 

PASSION. 

Jesus  !  the  Father's  words  approve 
His  Son  in  Jordan,  while  the  Dove, 

Bright  Witness,  hovers  down  ; 
So  wash  me,  Lord,  that  I  may  be, 
At  the  great  day,  approved  of  Thee, 

Before  Thy  Father's  throne. 

Jesus  !  who  in  the  strength  of  fast, 
Through  Adam's  three  temptations  passed, 

On  Adam's  trial-ground, 
[n  me  let  hallowed  abstinence 
The  issues  seal  of  carnal  sense, 

And  Satan's  wiles  confound. 


56  THE    LIFE    OF   OUR    LORD. 

Jesus  !  Thou  didst  the  fishers  call, 
Who  straightway  at  Thy  voice  left  all, 

To  teach  the  world  of  Thee ; 
May  I  with  ready  will  obey 
Thine  inward  call,  and  keep  the  way 

Of  Thy  simplicity. 

Jesus !  who  deignedst  to  be  a  guest, 
Where  Mary's  gently-urged  behest 

With  Thy  kind  power  made  free, 
May  I  mine  earthly  kinsfolk  love, 
I  n  such  pure  wrays,  that  I  may  prove 

My  greater  love  for  Thee. 

Jesus  !  how  toiled  Thy  blessed  Feet 
O'er  hill  and  dale  and  stony  street, 

Through  weary  want  and  pain  ! 
Oh  may  I  rather  for  Thy  sake 
The  hardships  Thou  hast  hallowed  take 

Than  joys  Thou  didst  disdain. 

Jesus  !  in  all  the  zeal  of  love 
How  amiably  didst  Thou  reprove 

Poor  wretches  lost  in  sin ! 
Ah !  may  I  first  in  penance  live, 
Rebuking  self,  then  humbly  strive 

My  brother's  soul  to  win. 


THE    LIFE    OF   OUR    LORD.  57 

Jesus  !  who  didst  the  multitude 
Twice  nourish  with  miraculous  food 

Of  soul  and  body  both, 
Give  me  my  daily  bread,  0  Lord, 
Thy  Flesh,  Thyself,  Incarnate  Word  ! 

Which  feeds  our  heavenly  growth. 

Jesus  !  Thy  gracious  truth  revealing, 
All  sorrow  soothing,  sickness  healing, 

And  so  requiting  hate, 
Oh  grant  that  I  may  ever  be 
Like-minded,  blessed  Lord  !  with  Thee, 

And  envy  no  man's  state. 

Jesus  !  transfigured  on  the  height 
Of  Tabor  in  mysterious  light 

From  heaven's  eternal  fountain, 
II  such  the  earthly  type,  oh  lead, 
Lead  me  where  Thou  Thy  flock  dost  feed 

Upon  the  holy  mountain. 

Jesus  !  who  wept  o'er  Salem's  towers, 
Wept  for  her  long  and  baleful  hours 

Of  misery  and  sin  ! 
O  Love  Divine,  could  I  but  borrow 
jrom    Thy  sweet  strength  such   strength    of 
sorrow 

As  might  her  pardon  win  ! 


58  THE    LIFE    OF   OUR    LORD. 

Jesus  !  and  do  I  now  behold 

My  God,  my  Saviour,  bought  and  sold, 

A  traitor's  merchandise ! 
Oh  grant  that  I  may  never  be 
A  Judas,  dearest  Lord,  to  Thee, 

For  all  that  earth  can  prize. 

O  Creator  !  hear  Thy  creatures, 
Saviour !  hear  us,  when  we  pray  ; 
Thou  who  dost  renew  our  natures, 
Good  Spirit !  Give  us  heart  to  say, 
Deus  meus  et  omnia  ! 


3.    THE   PASSION   OF    OUR   SAVIOUR   TILL   HIS 
CRUCIFIXION. 

Jesus  !  who  deem'dst  it  not  unmeet 
To  wash  Thine  own  disciples'  feet, 

Though  Thou  wert  Lord  of  all ; 
Teach  me  thereby  this  wisdom  meek, 
That  they  who  self-abasement  seek 

Alone  shall  fear  no  fall. 

Jesus  !  who  Thy  true  Flesh  didst  take 
Upon  the  Paschal  night,  and  break 

For  our  most  precious  Food, 
O  Living  Bread,  be  Thou  my  strength 
Through  which  the  world  and  flesh,  at  length, 

In  me  may  be  subdued. 


THE    LIFE    OF   OUR    LORD.  59 

Jesus  !  who  in  the  garden  felt 
The  bloody  sweat,  yet  patient  knelt 

To  do  Thy  Father's  will, 
To  me  give  such  a  zealous  mind 
To  suffer  such  a  heart  resigned 

Thy  statutes  to  fulfil. 
Jesus  !  Thy  friends  are  fain  to  sleep, 
While  to  the  unresisting  Sheep 

The  cruel  wolves  repair; 
May  I  be  found  as  meek  and  still 
By  those  who  wish  or  work  me  ill, 

And,  like  my  Lord,  at  prayer. 
Jesus  !  who  sawst  on  that  sad  night 
Thine  own,  Thy  chosen,  take  to  flight, 

And  leave  their  Lord  by  stealth  ; 
On  may  we  learn  in  grief  and  care 
Those  harder  trials  still  to  bear, 

Prosperity  and  wealth. 
Jesus  !  who  meekly  silent  stood 
Before  the  accusing  multitude, 
Do  Thou  my  tongue  control, 
Set  on  my  busy  lips  Thy  seal ; 
Ascetic  silence  oft  can  heal 
The  sickness  of  the  soul. 

Jesus  !  whom  Peter  then  denied, 
Thou  with  one  gentle  look  didst  chide 
The  weak  disciple's  fears ; 


60  THE    LIFE    OF    OUR    LORD. 

If  ever  I  deny  Thy  Name, 
Thy  Cross,  oh  send  me  speedy  shame, 
Oh  give  me  Peter's  tears. 

Jesus  !  the  Judge  of  quick  and  dead, 
Thyself,  when  falsely  judged,  wert  led 

In  mock  regalia  clad ; 
May  I  my  solemn  office  fill, 
Judge  of  myself,  and  think  no  ill, 

Not  even  of  the  bad. 

Jesus  !  when  scourged  and  buffeted 
And  spit  upon,  Thy  sacred  Head 

Was  bow'd  to  earth  for  me  ; 
Oh  may  I  pardon  find,  and  bliss, 
And  expiating  love  in  this 

My  Lord's  indignity. 

Jesus  !  with  crown  of  ruddy  thorn 
The  Jews  Thy  tortured  brow  adorn, 

And  jeering,  hail  Thee  king ; 
May  I,  O  Lord,  with  heart  sincere 
My  humble  zeal,  my  love,  and  fear. 

And  real  homage  bring. 

Jesus  !  for  whom  the  wicked  Jews 

A  vile  and  blood-stained  robber  choose, 

Have  mercy,  Lord,  on  me, 
And  keep  me  from  a  choice  so  base 
As  taking  wealth  or  ease  or  place, 

Barabbas,  Lord  !  for  Thee 


THE    LIFE    OF   OUR    LORD.  6 1 

O  Creator !  hear  Thy  creatures, 
Saviour !  hear  us  when  we  pray  ; 
Thou  who  dost  renew  our  natures, 
Good  Spirit !  give  us  hearts  to  say, 
Deus  meus  et  omnia  ! 

\.  the  crucifixion,  and  what  was  donr 
upon  the  cross. 

Jesus  !  along  Thy  proper  road 
Of  sorrows,  with  Thy  weary  Load 

How  didst  Thou  toil  and  strain  ! 
Oh  may  I  bear  the  Cross  like  Thee, 
Or  rather,  Lord,  do  thou  in  me 

The  blessed  weight  sustain. 

J esus  !  on  that  most  doleful  day 

How  were  thy  garments  stripped  away, 

Thy  holy  Limbs  laid  bare  ! 
Oh  may  no  works  or  ways  unclean 
Despoil  me  of  that  modest  mien 

Thy  servants,  Lord,  should  wear. 

Jesus  !  What  direst  agony 
Was  thine  upon  the  bitter  tree, 

With  healing  virtues  rife  ! 
Oh  may  I  count  all  things  but  loss, 
All  for  the  glory  of  the  Cross, 

The  sinner's  Tree  of  Life. 


62  THE    LIFE    OF   OUR    LORD, 

Jesus  !  around  Thy  sacred  Head 
There  is  an  ominous  brightness  shed, 

The  Name  which  Pilate  wrote ; 
Save  us,  Thou  royal  Nazarene  ! 
For  in  that  Threefold  Name  are  seen 

The  gifts  Thy  Passion  brought. 
Jesus  !  who  to  the  Father  prayed 
For  those  who  all  Thy  love  repaid. 

With  this  dread  cup  of  woes, 
Teach  me  to  conquer,  Lord,  like  Thee, 
By  patience  and  benignity, 

The  thwarting  of  my  foes. 

Jesus  !  who,  come  to  seek  and  save, 
Absolved  the  thief,  and  promise  gave 

Of  peace  among  the  blest, 
Ah !  do  Thou  give  me  penitence 
Like  this,  that  I,  when  summoned  hence. 

In  paradise  may  rest. 

Jesus  !  who  bade  the  virgin  John 

Thy  Mother  take,  when  Thou  wert  gone 

And  in  Thy  stead  to  be, 
Oh  when  I  yield  my  parting  breath, 
Be  Thou  beside  me,  and  in  death, 

Good  Lord,  remember  me. 

Jesus  !  true  Man,  who  cried  aloud, 
Toward  the  ninth  hour,  My  God,  my  God. 
O  why  am  I  forsaken  ? 


THE    LIFE    OF   OUR    LORD.  63 

Lord !  may  I  never  fall  from  Thee, 
Nor  e'en  in  life's  extremity 
My  humble  trust  be  shaken. 

Jesus!  athirst,  the  soldiers  think 
To  mock  Thee,  giving  Thee  to  drink 

What  might  inflame  Thy  pain  ; 
Ah  !  mindful  of  the  loathsome  draught 
Which  for  my  sins  my  Saviour  quaffed. 

May  I  my  flesh  restrain. 

Jesus  !  Redeemer,  all  the  price 
Of  Adam's  sin  Thy  sacrifice 

Did  more  than  fully  pay  ; 
May  I  my  stewardship  fulfil 
With  equal  strictness,  and  Thy  will 

With  scrupulous  love  obey. 

Jesus  !  Thy  passion  at  an  end, 

Thou  didst  Thy  blameless  Soul  commend 

Unto  the  Father's  care  ; 
When  my  last  hour  is  come,  may  I 
Hasten  with  meek  alacrity 

To  do  Thy  will  elsewhere. 

O  Creator  !  hear  Thy  creatures, 
Saviour  !  hear  us  when  we  pray  ; 
Thou  who  dost  renew  our  natures, 
Good  Spirit !  give  us  hearts  to  say 
Deus  meus  et  omnia  !  • 


64  THE  LIFE  OF  OUR  LORD. 

J.  WHAT  WAS  DONE  AFTER  HIS  DEATH, 
BURIAL,  RESURRECTION,  ASCENSION,  SES 
SI  ON,  AND  SECOND  ADVENT. 

Jesus  !   all  hail,  who  for  my  sin 
Didst  die,  and  by  that  death  didst  win 

Eternal  life  for  me  ; 
Send  me  Thy  grace,  good  Lord !  that  I 
Unto  the  world  and  flesh  may  die, 

And  hide  my  life  with  Thee. 

Jesus  !  from  out  Thine  open  Side 
Thou  hast  the  thirsty  world  supplied 

With  endless  streams  of  love  ; 
Come  ye  who  would  your  sickness  quell, 
Draw  freely  from  that  sacred  well, 

Its  heavenly  virtues  prove. 

Jesus  !  Thy  Passion's  bitter  smart 
Pierced  like  a  sword  Thy  Mother's  heart 

As  Simeon  prophesied; 
So  fix  my  heart  unto  Thy  Cross, 
That  I  may  count  all  gain  but  loss 

For  Jesus  Crucified ! 

Jesus  !  in  spices  wrapped,  and  laid 
Within  the  garden's  rocky  shade, 
By  jealous  seals  made  sure. 


THE    LIFE    OF   OUR    LORD.  65 

Embalm  me  with  Thy  grace,  and  hide 
Thy  servant  in  Thy  wounded  Side, 
A  heavenly  sepulture  ! 

Jesus  !  who  to  the  spirits  went, 

And  preached  the  new  enfranchisement 

Thy  recent  death  had  won, 
Absolve  me,  Lord  !  and  set  me  free 
From  self  and  sin,  that  I  may  be 

Bondsman  to  Thee  alone. 

Jesus  !  who  from  the  dead  arose, 

And  straightway  sought  to  comfort  those 

Whose  weak  faith  mourned  for  Thee, 
O  may  I  rise  from  sin  and  earth, 
And  so  make  good  that  second  birth 

Which  Thou  hast  wrought  in  me. 

Jesus  !  who  wert  at  Emmaus  known 
In  breaking  bread,  and  thus  art  shown 

Unto  Thy  people  now. 
Oh  may  my  heart  within  me  burn, 
When  at  the  Altar  I  discern 

Thy  Body,  Lord  !  and  bow, 

Jesus!  amid  yon  olives  hoar, 
Thy  forty  days  of  sojourn  o'er, 

Thou  didst  ascend  on  high  ; 
Oh  thither  may  my  heart  and  mind 
Ascend,  their  home  and  harbour  find 

With  Jesus  in  the  sky. 
5 


66  THE    LIFE    OF  OUR    LORD, 

Jesus  !  ten  silent  days  expired, 
The  Eternal  Spirit  came,  and  fired 

With  His  celestial  heat 
Thine  Infant  Church  ;  Oh  may  that  light 
Within  one  pasture  now  unite 

Men's  widely  wandering  feet. 

Jesus  !  who  at  this  very  hour 

At  God's  Right  Hand  in  pomp  and  power 

Our  nature  still  dost  wear, 
Oh  let  Thy  Wounds  still  intercede, 
And  by  their  simple  silence  plead 

Thy  countless  merits  there. 

Jesus  !  who  shalt  in  glory  come 
With  angels  to  the  final  doom, 

Men's  works  and  wills  to  weigh, 
Since  from  that  pomp  I  cannot  flee, 
Be  pitiful,  great  Lord!  to  me 

In  that  tremendous  day. 

O  Creator !  hear  Thy  creatures, 
Saviour!  hear  us  when  we  pray; 
Thou  who  dost  renew  our  natures, 
Good  Spirit !  give  us  hearts  to  say, 
Deus  meus  et  omnia  ! 


Rome.     Villa  Strozzi, 
Eve  of  St.  Barnabas,  1843. 


CHRISTMAS   NIGHT.  6) 


CHRISTMAS  NIGHT. 

At  last  Thou  art  come,  little  Saviour! 

And  Thine  angels  fill  midnight  with  song ; 
Thou  art  come  to  us,  gentle  Creator ! 

Whom  Thy  creatures  have    sighed  for  so 
long. 

Chorus. 

All  hail,  Eternal  Child  ! 

Sweet  Babe  of  Bethlehem  ! 

Hail  God's  Eternal  Son, 
Sweet  Babe  of  Bethlehem  ! 

Thou  art  come  to  Thy  beautiful  Mother ; 

She  hath  looked  on  Thy  marvellous  Face  ; 
Thou  art  come  to  us,  Maker  of  Mary  ! 

And  she  was  Thy  channel  of  grace. 

Thou  hast  brought  with  Thee  plentiful  pardon 
And  our  souls  overflow  with  delight ; 

Our  hearts  are  half  broken,  dear  Jesus  ! 
With  the  joy  of  this  wonderful  night. 

We  have  waited  so  long  for  Thee,  Saviour  ! 

Art  Thou  come  to  us,  dearest !  at  last  ? 
Oh  bless  Thee,  dear  Joy  of  Thy  Mother  ! 

This  is  worth  all  the  wearisome  past ! 


68  THE    INFANT    JESUS. 

Thou  art  come,  Thou  art  come,  Child  of  Mary  ! 

Yet  we  hardly  believe  Thou  art  come  ; — 
It  seems  such  a  wonder  to  have  Thee, 

New  Brother !  with  us  in  our  home. 

Thou  wilt  stay  with  us,  Master  and  Maker  ! 

Thou  wilt  stay  with  us  now  evermore  : 
We  will  play  with  Thee,  beautiful  Brother  ! 

On  Eternity's  jubilant  shore. 


THE  INFANT  JESUS. 

Dear  Little  One  !  how  sweet  Thou  art, 
Thine  eyes  how  bright  they  shine, 

So  bright  they  almost  seem  to  speak- 
When  Mary's  look  meets  Thine  S 

How  faint  and  feeble  is  Thy  cry, 

Like  plaint  of  harmless  dove, 
When  Thou  dost  murmur  in  Thy  slecj 

Of  sorrow  and  of  love. 

When  Mary  bids  Thee  sleep  Thru  sleepst, 

Thou  wakest  when  she  calls ; 
Thou  art  content  upon  her  lap, 

Or  in  the  rugged  stalls. 


THE    INFANT   JESUS.  69 

Simplest  of  Babes  !  with  what  a  grace 

Thou  dost  Thy  Mother's  will ! 
Thine  infant  fashions  well  betray 

The  Godhead's  hidden  skill. 

When  Joseph  takes  Thee  in  his  arms, 

And  smooths  Thy  little  cheek, 
Thou  lookest  up  into  his  face 

So  helpless  and  so  meek. 

Yes  !  Thou  art  what  Thou  seemst  to  be, 

A  thing  of  smiles  and  tears  ; 
Yet  Thou  art  God,  and  heaven  and  earth 

Adore  Thee  with  their  fears. 

Yes  !  dearest  Babe  !  those  tiny  hands, 

That  play  with  Mary's  hair, 
The  weight  of  all  the  mighty  world 

This  very  moment  bear. 

While  Thou  art  clasping  Mary's  neck 

In  timid  tight  embrace, 
The  boldest  Seraphs  veil  themselves 

Before  Thine  infant  Face. 

When  Mary  hath  appeased  Thy  thirst, 

And  hushed  Thy  feeble  cry, 
The  hearts  of  men  lie  open  still 

Before  Thy  slumbering  eye. 


70  THE  THREE  KINGS. 

Art  Thou,  weak  Babe  !  my  very  God  ? 

Oh  I  must  love  Thee  then, 
Love  Thee,  and  yearn  to  spread  Thy  love 

Among  forgetful  men. 

0  sweet,  O  wakeful-hearted  Child ! 

Sleep  on,  dear  Jesus  !  sleep : 
For  Thou  must  one  day  wake  for  me 

To  suffer  and  to  weep. 

A  Scourge,  a  Cross,  a  cruel  Crown 

Have  I  in  store  for  Thee  ; 
Yet  why  ?  one  little  tear,  O  Lord  ! 

Ransom  enough  would  be. 

But  no  !  death  is  Thine  own  sweet  will, 

The  price  decreed  above  ; 
Thou  wilt  do  more  than  save  our  souls, 

For  Thou  wilt  die  for  love. 


THE  THREE  KINGS. 

Who  are  these  that  ride  so  fast  o'er  the  desert's 
sandy  road, 

That  have  tracked  the  Red  Sea  shore,  and 
have  swum  the  torrents  broad  ; 

Whose  camels'  bells  are  tinkling  through  the 
long  and  starry  night — 

For  they  ride  like  men  pursued,  like  the  van- 
quished of  a  fight  ? 


THE  THREE  KINGS.  7  I 

Who  are  these  that  ride  so  fast  ?  They  an 
eastern  monarchs  three, 

Who  have  laid  aside  their  crowns,  and  re- 
nounced their  high  degree ; 

The  eyes  they  love,  the  hearts  they  prize,  the 
well-known  voices  kind, 

Their  people's  tents,  their  native  plains,  they've 
left  them  all  behind. 

The  very  least  of  faith's  dim  rays  beamed  on 

them  from  afar, 
And  that  same  hour  they  rose  from  off  their 

thrones  to  track  the  Star  ; 
They  cared  not  for  the   cruel  scorn  of  those 

who  called  them  mad  ; 
Messias'    Star  was   shining,  and   their  royal 

hearts  were  glad. 

But  a  speck  was  in  the  midnight  sky,  uncer- 
tain, dim,  and  far, 

And  their  hearts  were  pure,  and  heard  a  voice 
proclaim  Messias'  Star : 

And  in  its  golden  twinkling  they  saw  more 
than  common  light, 

The  Mother  and  the  Child  they  saw  in  Beth- 
lehem by  night ! 

And  what  were  crowns,  and  what  were  thrones, 
to  such  a  sight  as  that  ? 


72  THE    THREE    KINGS. 

So  straight   away  they  left   their  tents,  and 

bade  not  grace  to  wait ; 
They  hardly  stop  to  slake  their  thirst  at  the 

desert's  limpid  springs, 
Nor  note  how  fair  the  landscape  is,  how  sweet 

the  skylark  sings  ! 

Whole  cities  have  turned  out  to  meet  their 

royal  cavalcade, 
Wise  colleges  and  doctors  all  their  wisdom 

have  displayed ; 
And  when  the  star  was  dim,  they  knocked  at 

Herod's  palace  gate, 
And  troubled  with  the  news  of  faith  his  politic 

estate. 

And   they   have    knelt   in  Bethlehem !     The 

Everlasting  Child 
They  saw   upon    His    mother's    lap,  earth's 

monarch  meek  and  mild ; 
His  little  feet,  with  Mary's  leave,  they  pressed 

with  loving  kiss, — 
Oh  what  were  thrones,  oh  what  were  crowns, 

to  such  a  joy  as  this  ? 

One  little  sight  of  Jesus  was  enough  for  many 

years, 
One  look  at  Him  their  stay  and  staff  in  the 

dismal  vale  of  tears  : 


THE  PURIFICATION.  73 

Their  people  for  that  sight  of  Him  they  gal- 
lantly withstood, 

They  taught  His  faith,  they  preached  His 
word,  and  for  Him  shed  their  blood. 

Ah    me  !  what   broad  daylight    of    faith    our 

thankless  souls  receive, 
How  much  we  know  of  Jesus,  and  how  easy 

to  believe ; 
Tis  the  noonday  of  His  sunshine,  of  His  sun 

that  setteth  never : 
Faith  gives  us  crowns,  and  makes  us  kings, 

and  our  kingdom  is  for  ever  ! 

Oh  glory  be  to  God  on  high  for  these  Arabian 

kings, 
These   miracles  of   royal   faith,  with   eastern 

offerings  : 
For  Gaspar  and  for  Melchior  and  Balthazzar, 

who  from  far 
Found  Mary  out  and  Jesus  by  the  shining  of 

a  Star ! 


THE  PURIFICATION. 

Joy  !  joy  !  the  mother  comes, 
And  in  her  arms  she  brings 
The  Light  of  all  the  world, 


74  THE    PURIFICATION. 

The  Christ,  the  King  of  kings ; 
And  in  her  heart  the  while 
All  silently  she  sings. 

Saint  Joseph  follows  near, 
In  rapture  lost  and  love, 

While  angels  round  about 
In  glowing  circles  move, 

And  o'er  the  Mother  broods 
The  Everlasting  Dove  ! 

There  in  the  temple  court 

Old  Simeon's  heart  beats  high, 

And  Anna  feeds  her  soul 
With  food  of  prophecy ; 

But,  see  !  the  shadows  pass, 

The  world's  true  Light  draws  nigh. 

O  Infant  God!  O  Christ! 

O  Light  most  beautiful ! 
Thou  comest,  Joy  of  Joys  ! 

All  darkness  to  annul ; 
And  brightest  lights  of  earth 

Beside  Thy  Light  are  dull. 

O  Mary  !  bear  Him  quick 

Into  His  temple  gate, 
For  poor  impatient  souls 

His  healing  sunrise  wait; 
And  pay  His  price  that  He 

May  be  emancipate. 


LENT  75 

Yes  !  thou  wilt  set  Him  free  ; 

He  will  be  wholly  ours, 
To  lighten  every  soul 

In  earth's  benighted  bowers, 
Undoing  Adam's  curse, 

And  turning  thorns  to  flowers. 

Ah  !  with  what  thrills  of  awe 
The  Mother's  heart  is  teeming, 

To  think  the  newborn  light 

That  o'  er  the  world  is  streaming 

At  His  own  Mother's  hands 

Should  stoop  to  need  redeeming. 


LENT. 


Now  are  the  days  of  humblest  prayer, 
When  consciences  to  God  lie  bare, 
And  mercy  most  delights  to  spare. 
Oh  hearken  when  we  cry, 

Chastise  us  with  Thy  fear ; 

Yet,  Father !  in  the  multitude 

Of  Thy  compassions,  hear ! 

Now  is  the  season,  wisely  long, 
Of  sadder  thought  and  graver  song, 
When  ailing  souls  grow  well  and  strong. 
Oh  hearken  when  we  cry 


J  6  LENT. 

Chastise  us  with  Thy  fear; 

Yet,  Father!  in  the  multitude 

Of  Thy  compassions,  hear! 

O  happy  time  of  blessed  tears, 
Of  surer  hopes,  of  chastening  fears, 
Undoing  all  our  evil  years. 
Oh  hearken  when  we  cry, 

Chastise  us  with  Thy  fear  ; 

Yet,  Father !  in  the  multitude 

Of  Thy  compassions,  hear ! 

We,  who  have  loved  the  world  must  learn 
Upon  that  world  our  backs  to  turn, 
And  with  the  love  of  God  to  burn. 
Oh  hearken  when  we  cry, 

Chastise  us  with  Thy  fear; 

Yet,  Father!  in  the  multitude 

Of  Thy  compassions,  hear ! 

Vile  creatures  of  such  little  worth  ! — 
Than  we,  there  can  be  none  on  earth 
More  fallen  from  their  Christian  birth. 
Oh  hearken  when  we  cry, 

Chastise  us  with  Thy  fear  ; 

Yet,  Father !  in  the  multitude 

Of  Thy  compassions,  hear ! 

Full  long  in  sin's  dark  ways  we  went, 
Yet  now  our  steps  are  heavenward  bent, 
And  grace  is  plentiful  in  Lent. 


THE    AGONY.  77 

Oh  hearken  when  we  cry, 
Chastise  us  with  Thy  fear ; 

Yet,  Father !  in  the  multitude 
Of  Thy  compassions,  hear ! 

All  glory  to  redeeming  grace, 
Disdaining  not  our  evil  case, 
But  showing  us  our  Saviour's  face  ! 
Oh  hearken  when  we  cry, 

Chastise  us  with  Thy  fear ; 

Yet,  Father !  in  the  multitude 

Of  Thy  compassions,  hear  ! 


THE  AGONY. 

0  Soul  of  Jesus,  sick  to  death ! 
Thy  blood  and  prayer  together  plead  : 
My  sins  have  bowed  Thee  to  the  ground, 
As  the  storm  bows  the  feeble  reed. 

Midnight — and  still  the  oppressive  load 
Upon  Thy  tortured  Heart  doth  lie ; 
Still  the  abhorred  procession  winds 
Before  Thy  spirit's  quailing  eye. 

Deep  waters  have  come  in,  O  Lore1  .' 
All  darkly  on  Thy  Human  Soul ; 
And  clouds  of  supernatural  gloom 
Around  Thee  are  allowed  to  roll. 


78  THE    AGONY. 

The  weight  of  the  eternal  wrath 
Drives  over  Thee  with  pressure  dread  , 
And,  forced  upon  the  olive  roots, 
In  deathlike  sadness  droops  Thy  Head 

Thy  spirit  weighs  the  sins  of  men ; 
Thy  science  fathoms  all  their  guilt-, 
Thou  sickenest  heavily  at  Thy  Heart, 
And  the  pores  open, — Blood  is  spilt. 

And  Thou  hast  struggled  with  it,  Lord  ! 
Even  to  the  limit  of  Thy  strength, 
While  hours,  whose  minutes  were  as  years, 
Slowly  fulfilled  their  weary  length. 

And  Thou  hast  shuddered  at  each  act, 
And  shrunk  with  an  astonished  fear, 
As  if  Thou  couldst  not  bear  to  see 
The  loathsomeness  of  sin  so  near. 

Sin  and  the  Father's  Anger !  they 
Have  made  Thy  lower  nature  faint ; 
All  save  the  love  within  Thy  Heart, 
Seemed  for  the  moment  to  be  spent. 

My  God  !  My  God  !  and  can  it  be 
That  I  should  sin  so  lightly  now, 
And  think  no  more  of  evil  thoughts, 
Than  of  the  wind  that  waves  the  bough  ? 


THE    AGONY.  79 

I  sin, — and  heaven  and  earth  go  round. 
As  if  no  dreadful  deed  were  done, 
As  if  God's  Blood  had  never  flowed 
To  hinder  sin,  or  to  atone. 

I  walk  the  earth  with  lightsome  step, 
Smile  at  the  sunshine,  breathe  the  air, 
Do  my  own  will,  nor  ever  heed 
Gethsemane  and  Thy  long  prayer. 

Shall  it  be  always  thus,  O  Lord  ? 
Wilt  Thou  not  work  this  hour  in  me 
The  grace  Thy  Passion  merited, 
Hatred  of  self  and  love  of  Thee  ? 

Oh  by  the  pains  of  Thy  pure  love, 
Grant  me  the  gift  of  holy  fear  ; 
And  give  me  of  Thy  Bloody  Sweat 
To  wash  my  guilty  conscience  clear  ! 

Ever  when  tempted,  make  me  see, 
Beneath  the  olive's  moon-pierced  shade. 
My  God,  alone,  outstretched,  and  bruised, 
And  bleeding,  on  the  earth  He  made. 

And  make  me  feel  it  was  my  sin, 
As  though  no  other  sins  there  were, 
That  was  to  Him  who  bears  the  world 
A  load  that  He  could  scarcely  bear  ! 


8o  JESUS    CRUCIFIED. 


JESUS  CRUCIFIED. 
Oh  come  and  mourn  with  me  awhile  ! 
See,  Mary  calls  us  to  her  side  ; 
Oh  come  and  let  us  mourn  with  her; 
Jesus,  our  Love,  is  crucified ! 

Have  we  no  tears  to  shed  for  Him, 
While  soldiers  scoff  and  Jews  deride  ? 
Ah  !  look  how  patiently  He  hangs  ; 
Jesus,  our  Love,  is  crucified  ! 

How  fast  His  Hands  and  Feet  are  nailed ; 
His  blessed  Tongue  with  thirst  is  tied  ; 
His  failing  Eyes  are  blind  with  blood  ; 
Jesus,  our  Love,  is  crucified  ! 

Seven  times  He  spoke,  seven  words  of  love 
And  all  three  hours  His  silence  cried 
For  mercy  on  the  souls  of  men  ; 
Jesus,  our  Love,  is  crucified ! 

What  was  Thy  crime,  my  dearest  Lord  ? 
By  earth,  by  heaven,  Thou  hast  been  tried, 
And  guilty  found  of  too  much  love  ; 
Jesus,  our  Love,  is  crucified ! 

Found  guilty  of  excess  of  love, 
It  was  Thine  own  sweet  will  that  tied 
Thee  tighter  far  than  helpless  nails  ; 
Jesus,  our  Love,  is  crucified  ! 


THE    PRECIOUS   BLOOD.  8\ 

Oh  break,  oh  break,  hard  heart  of  mine  ! 
Thy  weak  self-love  and  guilty  pride 
His  Pilate  and  His  Judas  were ; 
Jesus,  our  Love,  is  crucified  ! 

Come,  take  thy  stand  beneath  the  Cross, 
And  let  the  Blood  from  out  that  Side 
Fall  gently  on  thee  drop  by  drop  ; 
Jesus,  our  Love,  is  crucified! 

A  broken  heart,  a  fount  of  tears, 
Ask,  and  they  will  not  be  denied  ; 
A  broken  heart,  love's  cradle  is  ; 
Jesus,  our  Love,  is  crucified  ! 

O  Love  of  God !  O  Sin  of  man  ! 
In  this  dread  act  your  strength  is  tried. 
And  victory  remains  with  love  ; 
For  He,  our  Love,  is  crucified  ! 


THE  PRECIOUS  BLOOD. 

Hail,  Jesus  !  Hail !  who  for  my  sake 
Sweet  Blood  from  Mary's  veins  didst  take, 

And  shed  it  all  for  me ; 
Oh  Blessed  be  my  Saviour's  Blood, 
My  life,  my  light,  my  only  good. 

To  all  eternity. 

6 


82  THE    PRECIOUS   BLOOD. 

To  endless  ages  let  us  praise 

The  Precious  Blood,  whose  price  could  raise 

The  world  from  wrath  and  sin ; 
Whose  streams  our  inward  thirst  appease, 
And  heal  the  sinner's  worst  disease, 

If  he  but  bathe  therein. 

Oh  sweetest  Blood,  that  can  implore 
Pardon  of  God,  and  heaven  restore, 

The  heaven  which  sin  had  lost : 
While  Abel's  blood  for  vengeance  pleads, 
What  Jesus  shed  still  intercedes 

For  those  who  wrong  Him  most. 

Oh  to  be  sprinkled  from  the  wells 
Of  Christ's  own  sacred  Blood,  excels 

Earth's  best  and  highest  bliss  : 
The  ministers  of  wrath  divine 
Hurt  not  the  happy  hearts  that  shine 

With  those  red  drops  of  His  ! 

Ah  !  there  is  joy  amid  the  saints, 
And  hell's  despairing  courage  faints 

When  this  sweet  song  we  raise  : 
Oh  louder  then,  and  louder  still, 
Earth  with  one  mighty  chorus  fill, 

The  Precious  Blood  to  praise  ! 


BLOOD    IS    THE    PRICE    OF  HE  A  VEN.     83 


BLOOD  IS  THE  PRICE    OF  HEAVEN. 

Blood  is  the  price  of  heaven ; 
All  sin  that  price  exceeds ; 
Oh  come  to  be  forgiven, — 
He  bleeds, 
My  Saviour  bleeds ! 
Bleeds  ! 

Under  the  olive  boughs, 

Falling  like  ruby  beads, 
The  Blood  drops  from  His  Brows, 
He  bleeds, 
My  Saviour  bleeds ! 
Bleeds ! 

While  the  fierce  scourges  fall, 

The  Precious  Blood  still  pleads : 
In  front  of  Pilate's  hall 
He  bleeds, 
My  Saviour  bleeds ! 
Bleeds! 

Beneath  the  thorny  crown 

The  crimson  fountain  speeds  ; 
See  how  it  trickles  down, — 
He  bleeds, 
My  Saviour  bleeds ! 
Bleeds! 


84      BLOOD    IS    THE    PRICE    OF  HEAVEN. 

Bearing  the  fatal  wood 

His  band  of  saints  He  leads, 
Marking  the  way  with  Blood ; 
He  bleeds, 
My  Saviour  bleeds ! 
Bleeds ! 


On  Calvary  His  shame 

With  Blood  still  intercedes ; 
His  open  Wounds  proclaim — 
He  bleeds, 
My  Saviour  bleeds  ! 
Bleeds  ! 

He  hangs  upon  the  tree, 

Hangs  there  for  my  misdeeds  ; 
He  sheds  His  Blood  for  me  ; 
He  bleeds, 
My  Saviour  bleeds ! 
Bleeds ! 

Ah  me  !  His  Soul  is  fled ; 

Yet  still  for  my  great  needs 
He  bleeds  when  He  is  dead 

He  bleeds, 
My  Saviour  bleeds  . 

Bleeds  ! 


W E  COME  TO  THEE  SW  EET  SAVIOUR.   85 

His  Blood  is  flowing  still ; 
My  thirsty  soul  it  feeds  ; 
He  lets  me  drink  my  fill ; 
He  bleeds, 
My  Saviour  bleeds ! 
Bleeds! 

O  sweet!  O  Precious  Blood! 

What  love,  what  love  it  breeds 
Ransom,  Reward,  and  Food, 
He  bleeds, 
My  Saviour  bleeds  ! 
Bleeds ! 


WE  COME  TO  THEE  SWEET 
SAVIOUR. 

We  come  to  Thee,  sweet  Saviour ; 

Just  because  we  need  Thee  so : 
None  need  Thee  more  than  we  do; 

Nor  are  half  so  vile  or  low. 

Chorus. 
O  bountiful  salvation ! 
O  life  eternal  won ! 
O  plentiful  redemption ! 
O  Blood  of  God's  dear  Son ! 


86    WE  COME  TO   THEE  SWEET  SAVIOUR. 


We  come  to  Thee,  sweet  Saviour  ! 

None  will  have  us,  Lord  !  but  Thee  ; 
A.nd  we  want  none  but  Jesus, 

And  His  grace  that  makes  us  free. 

We  come  to  Thee,  sweet  Saviour  ! 

For  our  sins  are  worse  than  ever ; 
Dear  Shepherd  of  the  outcast ! 

But  Thy  patience  wearies  never. 

We  come  to  Thee,  sweet  Saviour ! 

With  our  broken  faith  again  : 
We  know  Thou  wilt  forgive  us, 

Nor  upbraid  us,  nor  complain. 

We  come  to  Thee,  sweet  Saviour ! 

It  is  love  that  makes  us  come  : 
We  are  certain  of  our  welcome, 

Of  our  Father's  welcome  home. 

We  come  to  Thee,  sweet  Saviour ! 

Fear  brings  us  in  our  need  ; 
For  Thy  hand  never  breaketh, 

Not  the  frailest  bruised  reed. 

We  come  to  Thee,  sweet  Saviour ! 

For  to  whom,  Lord  !  can  we  go  ? 
1  he  words  of  life  eternal 

From  Thy  lips  for  ever  flow. 


JESUS    RISEN.  87 

We  come  to  Thee,  sweet  Saviour! 

We  have  tried  Thee,  oft  before  ; 
But  now  we  come  more  wholly, 

With  the  heart  to  love  Thee  more. 

We  come  to  Thee,  sweet  Saviour  ! 

'Tis  in  answer  to  Thy  call, 
Dear  Hope  of  the  unworthy ! 

Dearest  Merit  of  us  all ! 

We  come  to  Thee,  sweet  Saviour  ! 

And  Thou  wilt  not  ask  us  why  : 
We  cannot  live  without  Thee, 

And  still  less  without  Thee  die. 

Chorus. 

0  bountiful  salvation  ! 

O  life  eternal  won  ! 

O  plentiful  redemption ! 

O  Blood  of  God's  dear  Son ! 


JESUS  RISEN. 

All  hail !  dear  Conqueror  !  all  hail ! 

Oh  what  a  victory  is  Thine  ! 
How  beautiful  Thy  strength  appears, 

Thy  crimson  Wounds,  how  bright  they  shine  ! 


55     THE  DESCENT  OF  THE  HOLY  GHOST. 

Down,  down,  all  lofty  things  on  earth, 

And  worship  Him  with  joyous  dread  ! 
0  Sin  !  thou  art  outdone  by  love  ! 

0  Death  !  thou  art  discomfited  ! 

Ye  Heavens,  how  sang  they  in  your  courts, 
How  sang  the  angelic  choirs  that  day, 

When  from  his  tomb  the  imprisoned  God, 
Like  the  strong  sunrise,  broke  away  ? 

Oh  I  am  burning  so  with  love, 

1  fear  lest  I  should  make  too  free ; 
Let  me  be  silent  and  adore 

Thy  glorified  Humanity. 

Ah  !  now  Thou  sendest  me  sweet  tears  ; 

Fluttered  with  love,  my  spirits  fail, — 
What  shall  I  say  ?     Thou  knowest  my  heart  , 

All  hail !  dear  Conqueror !  all  hail ! 


THE  DESCENT  OF  THE  HOLYGHOST. 

He  comes  !  He  comes  !  that  mighty  Breath 

From  heaven's  eternal  shores ; 
His  uncreated  freshness  fills 

His  bride  as  she  adores. 

Earth  quakes  before  that  rushing  blast, 

Heaven  echoes  back  the  sound, 
And  mightily  the  tempest  wheels 

That  Upper  Room  around. 


THE  DESCENT  OF  THE  HOLY  GHOST.    89 

One  moment — and  the  silentness 

Was  breathless  as  the  grave ; 
The  fluttered  earth  forgot  to  quake, 

The  troubled  trees  to  wave. 

One  moment — and  the  Spirit  hung 

O'er  them  with  dread  desire  ; 
Then  broke  upon  the  heads  of  all 

In  cloven  tongues  of  fire. 

What  gifts  He  gave  those  chosen  men, 

Past  ages  can  display ; 
Nay  more,  their  vigour  still  inspires 

The  weakness  of  to-day. 

Those  tongues  still  speak  within  the  Church, 

That  Fire  is  undecayed ; 
Its  well-spring  was  that  Upper  Room, 

Where  the  disciples  met  and  prayed. 

The  Spirit  came  into  the  Church 

With  His  unfailing  power; 
He  is  the  Living  Heart  that  beats 

Within  her  at  this  hour. 

Speak  gently  then  of  Church  and  Saints, 

Lest  you  His  ways  reprove ; 
The  Heat,  the  Pulses  of  the  Church 

Are  God's  Eternal  Love. 


90  THE    SACRED    HEART. 

Oh  let  us  fall  and  worship  Him, 
The  Love  of  Sire  and  Son, 

The  Consubstantial  Breath  of  God, 
The  Coeternal  One  ! 

Ah !  see,  how  like  the  Incarnate  Word, 
His  Blessed  Self  He  lowers, 

To  dwell  with  us  invisibly, 
And  make  His  riches  ours. 

Most  tender  Spirit !  Mighty  God  ! 

Sweet  must  Thy  Presence  be, 
If  loss  of  Jesus  can  be  gain, 

So  long  as  we  have  Thee  ! 


THE  SACRED  HEART. 

Unchanging  and  Unchangeable,  before  angelic 

eyes, 
The   Vision  of    the  Godhead   in  its  tranquil 

beauty  lies ; 
And,  like  a  city  lighted  up  all  gloriously  within, 
Its  countless  lustres  glance  and   gleam,  and 

sweetest  worship  win. 
On  the  Unbegotten  Father,  awful  well-spring 

of  the  Three, 
On  the  Sole  Begotten  Son's  coequal  Majesty, 


THE    SACRED    HEART.  9 1 

On  Him  eternally  breathed  forth  from  Father 

and  from  Son. 
The  spirits  gaze  with  fixed  amaze,  and  unreck- 

oned  ages  ran. 

Chorus : 
Myriad,  myriad  angels  raise 
Happy  hymns  of  wondering  praise, 
Ever  through  eternal  days, 

Before  the  Holy  Trinity, 

One  Undivided  Three  ! 

Still  the  Fountain  of  the  Godhead  giveth  forth 

eternal  being : 
Still  begetting,  unbegotten,  still  His  own  per- 
fection seeing, 
Still    limiting    His  own    loved  Self  with    His 

dear  coequal  Spirit, 
No   change   comes  o'er  that  blissful    Life,  no 

shadow  passeth  near  it. 
And  beautiful   dread  Attributes,  all   manifold 

and  bright, 
Now  thousands  seem,  now  lose  themselves  in 

one  self-living  light ; 
And  far  in  that  deep  Life  of  God,  in  harmony 

complete, 
Like  crowned  kings,  all  opposite   perfections 

take  their  seat. 


92  THE    SACRED   HEART. 

And  in  that  ungrowing  vision  nothing  deep- 
ens, nothing  brightens, 

But  the  living  Life  of  God  perpetually  lightens  ; 

And  created  life  is  nothing  but  a  radiant  shad- 
ow fleeing 

From  the  unapproached  lustres  of  that  Unbe- 
ginning  Being ; 

Spirits  wise  and  deep  have  watched  that  ever- 
lasting Ocean, 

And  never  o'er  its  lucid  field  hath  rippled 
faintest  motion ; 

In  glory  undistinguished  never  have  the  Three 
seemed  One, 

Nor  ever  in  divided  streams  the  Single  Es« 
sence  run. 

There  reigns  the  Eternal  Father,  in  His  lone 
prerogatives, 

And,  in  the  Father's  Mind,  the  Son,  all  self- 
existing,  lives, 

With  Him,  their  mutual  Jubilee,  that  deepest 
depth  of  love, 

Lifegiving  Life  of  two-fold  source,  the  many 
gifted  Dove ! 

O  Bountiful!  O  Beautiful!  can  Power  or  Wis- 
dom add 

Fresh  features  to  a  life,  so  munificent  and 
glad  ? 


THE    SACRED    HEART.  93 

Can  even  uncreated  Love,  ye  angels  !  give  a 

hue 
Which   can  ever  make  the    Unchanging  and 

Unchangeable  look  new  ? 

The  Mercy  of  the  Merciful  is  equal  to  Their 
Might, 

As  wondrous  as  Their  Love,  and  as  Their 
Wisdom  bright ! 

As  They,  who  out  of  nothing  called  creation 
at  the  first, 

In  everlasting  purposes  Their  own  design  had 
nursed, — 

As  They,  who  in  their  solitude,  Three  Per- 
sons, once  abode, 

Vouchsafed  of  Their  abundance  to  become 
creation's  God, — 

What  They  owed  not  to  Themselves  They 
stooped  to  owe  to  man, 

And  pledged  Their  glory  to  him,  in  an  unim- 
aginable plan. 

See  !  deep  within  the  glowing  depth   of  that 

Eternal  Light. 
What   change    hath   come,   what   vision   new 

transports  angelic  sight  ? 
A  creature  can  it  be,  in  uncreated  bliss  ? 
A  novelty  in  God  ?     Oh  what  nameless  thing 

is  this  ? 


94  THE    SACRED    HEART. 

The  beauty  of  the  Father's  Power  is  o'er  H 

brightly  shed, 
The  sweetness  of  the  Spirit's  Love  is  unction 

on  its  head ; 
In  the  wisdom  of  the  Son  it  plays   its   won 

drous  part, 
While  it  lives  the  loving  life  of  a  real  Human 

heart ! 

A  Heart  that  hath  a  Mother,  and  a  treasure  of 
red  blood, 

A  Heart  that  man  can  pray  to,  and  feed  upon 
for  food ! 

In  the  brightness  of  the  Godhead  is  its  mar- 
vellous abode, 

A  change  in  the  Unchanging,  creation  touch- 
ing God ! 

Ye  spirits  blest,  in  endless  rest,  who  on  that 
Vision  gaze, 

Salute  the  Sacred  Heart  with  all  your  worship- 
ful amaze, 

And  adore,  while  with  ecstatic  skill  the  Three 
in  One  ye  scan, 

The  Mercy  that  hath  planted  there  that  bles- 
sed Heart  of  Man ! 

All  tranquilly,  all  tranquilly,  doth  that  Blissful 
Vision  last, 

And  Its  brightness  o'er  immortalized  creation 
will  it  cast ; 


THE    SACRED    HEART.  95 

Ungrowing  and   unfading,  Its   pure    Essence 

doth  it  keep, 
In  the  deepest  of  those  depths  where  all  are 

infinitely  deep; 
Unchanging   and    Unchangeable   as    It   hath 

ever  been, 
As  It  was  before  that  Human  heart  was  there 

by  angels  seen, 
So  is  it  at  this  very  hour,  so  will  it  ever  be, 
With  that  Human  Heart  within  It,  beating  hot 

with  love  of  me  ! 

Chorus : 
Myriad,  myriad  angels  raise 
Happy  hymns  of  wondering  praise, 
Ever  through  eternal  days, 

Before  the  Holy  Trinity, 

One  Undivided  Three  ! 


\UL/ 


PART  THIED. 
Z\)c  fctitt),  cmb  i\)c  Spiritual  £ife. 


THANKSGIVING  AFTER  COMMU- 
NION. 

Jesus,  gentlest  Saviour! 

God  of  might  and  power  ! 
Thou  Thyself  art  dwelling 

In  us  at  this  hour. 

Nature  cannot  hold  Thee, 

Heaven  is  all  too  strait 
For  Thine  endless  glory, 

And  Thy  royal  state. 
7 


98     THANKSGIVING  AFTER  COMMUNION. 

Out  beyond  the  shining 

Of  the  furthest  star, 
Thou  art  ever  stretching 

Infinitely  far. 

Yet  the  hearts  of  children 
Hold  what  worlds  cannot, 

And  the  God  of  wonders 
Loves  the  lowly  spot. 

As  men  to  their  gardens 
Go  to  seek  sweet  flowers, 

In  our  hearts  dear  Jesus 
Seeks  them  at  all  hours. 

Jesus,  gentlest  Saviour ! 

Thou  art  in  us  now ; 
Fill  us  full  of  goodness, 

'Till  our  hearts  o'erilow. 

Pray  the  prayer  within  us 
That  to  heaven  shall  rise ; 

Sing  the  song  that  angels 
Sing  above  the  skies. 

Multiply  our  graces, 
Chiefly  love  and  fear, 

And,  dear  Lord  !  the  chiefest— 
Grace  to  persevere. 


LONGING   FOR    GOD. 

Oh,  how  can  we  thank  Thee 

For  a  gift  like  this, 
Gift  that  truly  maketh 

Heaven's  eternal  bliss  ? 

Ah  !  when  wilt  Thou  always 

Make  our  hearts  thy  home  ? 
We  must  wait  for  heaven, — 
Then  the  day  will  come. 

Now  at  least  we'll  keep  Thee 
All  the  time  we  may ; 

But  Thy  grace  and  blessing 
We  will  keep  alway. 


LONGING  FOR  GOD. 

How  gently  flow  the  silent  years, 

The  seasons  one  by  one  ; 
How  sweet  to  feel,  each  month  that  goes, 

That  life  must  soon  be  done  ! 

O  weary  ways  of  earth  and  men ! 

O  self  more  weary  still  ! 
How  vainly  do  you  vex  the  heart 

That  none  but  God  can  fill ! 


99 


100  LONGING  FOR    GOD. 

It  is  not  weariness  of  life 

That  makes  us  wish  to  die ; 
But  we  are  drawn  by  cords  which  come 

From  out  eternity. 

Eye  has  not  seen,  ear  has  not  heard, 

No  heart  of  man  can  tell, 
The  store  of  joys  God  has  prepared 

For  those  who  love  him  well. 

Oh  may  those  joys  one  day  be  ours, 

Upon  that  happy  shore  ! 
And  yet  those  joys  are  not  enough— 

We  crave  for  something  more. 

The  world's  unkindness  grows  with  life, 

And  troubles  never  cease  ; 
'Twere  lawful  then  to  wish  to  die, 

Simply  to  be  at  peace. 

Yes  !  peace  is  something  more  than  joy, 

Even  the  joys  above  ; 
For  peace,  of  all  created  things, 

Is  likest  Him  we  love. 

But  not  for  joy  nor  yet  for  peace, 

Dare  we  desire  to  die  ; 
God's  will  on  earth  is  always  joy, 

Always  tranquillity. 


EVENING    HYMN.  lOl 

To  die,  that  we  might  sin  no  more, 

Were  scarce  a  hero's  prayer ; 
And  glory  grows  as  grace  matures, 

And  patience  loves  to  bear. 

And  yet  we  long  and  long  to  die. 

We  covet  to  be  free, 
Not  for  Thy  great  rewards,  O  God  ! 

Not  for  Thy  peace — but  Thee. 

But  call  not  this  a  selfish  love, 

A  turning  from  the  fight ; 
And  tell  us  not  for  others'  sakes, 

To  doubt  if  this  be  right. 

Ah,  leave  us,  then,  at  peace,  to  greet 

Each  waxing,  waning  moon, 
Whose  silver  light  seems  aye  to  say — 

Soon,  exile  spirit!  soon 


EVENING  HYMN. 

Sweet  Saviour  !  bless  us  ere  we  go  ; 

Thy  word  into  our  minds  instil ; 
And  make  our  lukewarm  hearts  to  clow 

With  lowly  love  and  fervent  will. 
Through  life's  long  day  and  death's  dark  night, 
O  gentle  Jesus  !  be  our  light. 


102  EVENING   HYMN, 


The  day  is  done  ;  its  hours  have  run  ; 

And  Thou  hast  taken  count  of  all, 
The  scanty  triumphs  grace  hath  won, 

The  broken  vow,  the  frequent  fall. 
Through  life's  long  day  and  death's  dark  night, 
O  gentle  Jesus  !  be  our  light. 

Grant  us,  dear  Lord !  from  evil  ways 

True  absolution  and  release ; 
And  bless  us  more  than  in  past  days 

With  purity  and  inward  peace. 
Through  life's  long  day  and  death's  dark  night, 
O  gentle  Jesus  !  be  our  light. 

Do  more  than  pardon,  give  us  joy, 

Sweet  fear  and  sober  liberty, 
And  loving  hearts  without  alloy, 

That  only  long  to  be  like  Thee. 
Through  life's  long  day  and  death's  dark  night, 
O  gentle  Jesus  !  be  our  light. 

Labor  is  sweet,  for  Thou  hast  toiled, 
And  care  is  light,  for  Thou  hast  cared ; 

Let  not  our  works  with  self  be  soiled, 
Nor  in  unsimple  ways  ensnared. 

Through  life's  long  day  and  death's  dark  night 

O  gentle  Jesus  !  be  our  light. 

For  all  we  love,  the  poor,  the  sad, 
The  sinful, — unto  Thee  we  call ; 


THE    THOUGHT   OF   GOD.  103 

Oh  let  Thy  mercy  make  us  glad  ; 
Thou  art  our  Jesus  and  our  All. 
Through  life's  long  clay  and  death's  dark  night, 
0  gentle  Jesus  !  be  our  light. 


THE  THOUGHT  OF  GOD. 

The  thought  of  God,  the  thought  of  Thee, 

Who  liest  in  my  heart, 
And  yet  beyond  imagined  space 

Outstretched  and  present  art, — 
The  thought  of  Thee,  above,  below, 

Around  me  and  within. 
Is  more  to  me  than  health  and  wealth, 

Or  love  of  kith  and  kin. 

The  thought  of  God  is  like  the  tree 

Beneath  whose  shade  I  lie, 
And  watch  the  fleets  of  snowy  clouds 

Sail  o'er  the  silent  sky. 

'Tis  like  that  soft  invading  light, 

Which  in  all  darkness  shines, 
The  thread  that  through  life's  sombre  web 

In  golden  pattern  twines. 

It  is  a  thought  which  ever  makes 
Life's  sweetest  smiles  from  tears, 

And  is  a  daybreak  to  our  hopes. 
A  sunset  to  our  fears; 


104  THE    THOUGHT   OF   GOD. 


One  while  it  bids  the  tears  to  flow, 
Then  wipes  them  from  the  eyes, 

Most  often  fills  our  souls  with  joy, 
And  always  sanctifies. 

Within  a  thought  so  great,  our  souls 

Little  and  modest  grow, 
And,  by  its  vastness  awed,  we  learn 

The  art  of  walking  slow. 

The  wild  flower  on  the  mossy  ground 
Scarce  bends  its  pliant  form, 

When  overhead  the  autumnal  wood 
Is  thundering  like  a  storm. 

So  is  it  with  our  humbled  souls 
Down  in  the  thought  of  God, 

Scarce  conscious  in  their  sober  peace 
Of  the  wild  storms  abroad. 

To  think  of  Thee  is  almost  prayer, 

And  is  outspoken  praise  ; 
And  pain  can  even  passive  thoughts 

To  actual  worship  raise. 

O  Lord !  I  live  always  in  pain, 

My  life's  sad  undersong, 
Pain  in  itself  not  hard  to  bear, 

But  hard  to  bear  so  long. 


THE    FEAR    OF   GOD.  105 

Little  sometimes  weighs  more  than  much, 

When  it  has  no  relief ; 
A  joyless  life  is  worse  to  bear 

Than  one  of  active  grief. 
And  yet,  O  Lord  !  a  suffering  life 

One  grand  ascent  may  dare ; 
Penance,  not  self-imposed-,  can  make 

The  whole  of  life  a  prayer. 

All  murmurs  lie  inside  Thy  Will 
Which  are  to  Thee  addressed ; 

To  suffer  for  Thee  is  our  work, 
To  think  of  Thee  our  rest. 

THE  FEAR  OF  GOD. 
My  fear  of  Thee,  O  Lord,  exults 

Like  life  within  my  veins, 
A  fear  which  rightly  claims  to  be 

One  of  love's  sacred  pains. 
Thy  goodness  to  Thy  saints  of  old 

An  awful  thing  appeared ; 
For  were  Thy  majesty  less  good 

Much  less  would  it  be  feared. 

There  is  no  joy  the  soul  can  meet 

Upon  life's  various  road 
Like  the  sweet  fear  that  sits  and  shrinks 

Under  the  eye  of  God. 


ro6  THE    FEAR    OF   GOD. 

A  special  joy  is  in  all  love 

For  objects  we  revere  ; 
Thus  joy  in  God  will  always  be 

Proportioned  to  our  fear. 

Oh  Thou  art  greatly  to  be  feared, 

Thou  art  so  prompt  to  bless  ! 
The  dread  to  miss  such  love  as  Thine 

Makes  fear  but  love's  excess. 

The  fulness  of  Thy  mercy  seems 

To  fill  both  land  and  sea ; 
If  we  can  break  through  bounds  so  vast, 

How  exiled  shall  we  be ! 

m 

For  grace  is  fearful,  which  each  hour 
Our  path  in  life  has  crossed  ; 

If  it  were  rarer,  it  might  be 
Less  easy  to  be  lost. 

But  fear  is  love,  and  love  is  fear. 

And  in  and  out  they  move ; 
But  fear  is  an  intenser  joy 

Than  mere  unfrightened  love. 

When  most  I  fear  Thee,  Lord !  then  most 

Familiar  I  appear; 
And  I  am  in  my  soul  most  free, 

When  I  am  most  in  fear. 

I  should  not  love  Thee  as  I  do, 
If  love  might  make  more  free ; 


THE    FEAR    OF    GOD. 


Its  very  sweetness  would  be  lost 
In  greater  liberty. 

I  feel  Thee  most  a  father,  when 

I  fancy  Thee  most  near : 
And  Thou  comest  not  so  nigh  in  love 

As  Thou  comest,  Lord !  in  fear. 

They  love  Thee  little,  if  at  all, 
Who  do  not  fear  Thee  much ; 

If  love  is  Thine  attraction,  Lord ! 
Fear  is  Thy  very  touch. 

Love  could  not  love  Thee  half  so  much 
If  it  found  Thee  not  so  near ; 

It  is  thy  nearness,  which  makes  love 
The  perfectness  of  fear. 

We  fear  because  Thou  art  so  good, 

And  because  we  can  sin  ; 
And  when  we  make  most  show  of  love, 

We  are  trembling  most  within. 

And  Father!  when  to  us  in  heaven 
Thou  shalt  Thy  Face  unveil, 

Then  more  than  ever  will  our  souls 
Before  Thy  goodness  quail. 

Our  blessedness  will  be  to  bear 

The  sight  of  Thee  so  near, 
And  thus  eternal  love  will  be 

But  the  ecstasy  of  fear. 


1 08  PEE  VISHNESS. 


PEEVISHNESS. 


O  God !  that  I  could  be  with  Thee, 

Alone  by  some  sea  shore, 
And  hear  Thy  soundless  voice  within, 

And  the  outward  waters  roar. 

The  cold  wet  wind  would  seem  to  wash, 
The  world  from  off  my  brow : 

And  I  should  feel  amidst  the  storm 
That  none  were  near  but  Thou. 

Each  wave  that  broke  upon  the  rocks 
Would  seem  to  break  on  me  ; 

And  he  who  stands  an  outward  shock 
Gains  inward  liberty. 

Upon  the  wings  of  wild  sea-birds, 
My  dark  thoughts  would  I  lay, 

And  let  them  bear  them  out  to  sea, 
In  the  tempest  far  away. 

For  life  has  grown  a  simple  weight ; 

Each  effort  seems  a  fall; 
And  all  things  weary  me  on  earth, 

But  good  things  most  of  all. 


PEE  VI SH NESS.  I  09 

And  1  am  deadly  sick  of  men, 
From  shame  and  not  from  pride  ; 

My  love  of  souls,  my  joy  in  saints, 
Are  blossoms  that  have  died. 

It  seems  as  if  I  loathed  the  earth, 
And  yet  craved  not  for  heaven, 

But  for  another  nature  longed, 
Not  that  which  Thou  hast  given. 

For  goodness  all  ignoble  seems, 

Ungenerous  and  small, 
And  the  holy  are  so  wearisome, 

Their  very  virtues  pall. 

Alas  !  this  peevishness  with  good 

Is  want  of  love  of  God  ; 
Unloving  thoughts  within  distort 

The  look  of  things  abroad. 

The  discord  is  within,  which  jars 

So  sadly  in  life's  song : 
Tis  we,  not  they,  who  are  in  fault, 

When  others  seem  so  wrong. 

Tis  we  who  weigh  upon  ourselves  ; 

Self  is  the  irksome  weight : 
To  those,  who  can  see  straight  themselves, 

All  things  look  always  straight. 


1 1 0  PEE  VISHNESS. 

My  God  !  with  what  surpassing  love 

Thou  lovest  all  on  earth, 
How  good  the  least  good  is  to  Thee, 

How  much  each  soul  is  worth  ! 

I  seem  to  think  if  I  could  spend 

One  hour  alone  with  Thee, 
My  human  heart  would  come  again 

From  Thy  Divinity. 

And  yet  I  cannot  build  a  cell 

For  Thee  within  my  heart, 
And  meet  Thee,  as  Thy  chosen  do, 

Where  Thou  most  truly  art. 

The  bright  examples  round  me  seem 

My  dazzled  eyes  to  hurt ; 
Thy  beauty,  which  they  should  reflect, 

They  dwindle  and  invert. 

Therefore  I  crave  for  scenes  which  might 
My  fetter'd  thoughts  unbind, 

And  where  the  elements  might  be 
Like  scapegoats  to  my  mind, 

Where  all  things  round  should  loudly  tell, 
Storm,  rocks,  seabirds,  and  sea, 

Not  of  Thy  worship,  but  much  more, 
And  only,  Lord  !  of  Thee. 


PREDESTINA  TION, 


PREDESTINATION. 

Father  and  God !  my  endless  doom 

I*  hidden  in  Thy  Hand, 
And  I  shall  know  not  what  it  is 

Till  at  Thy  bar  I  stand. 

Thou  knowest  what  Thou  hast  decreed 

For  me  in  Thy  dread  Will ; 
I  in  my  helpless  ignorance 

Must  tremble  and  lie  still. 

All  light  is  darkness,  when  I  think 

Of  what  may  be  my  fate  ; 
Yet  hearts  will  trust,  and  hope  can  teach 

Both  faith  and  love  to  wait. 

A  little  strife  of  flesh  and  soul, 

A  single  word  from  Thee, 
And  in  a  moment  I  possess 

A  fixed  eternity  : — 

Fixed,  fixed,  irrevocably  fixed  ! 

Oh  at  this  silent  hour 
The  thought  of  what  is  possible 

Comes  with  terrific  power  : 

As  though  into  some  awful  depth 
Rash  hands  had  flung  a  stone, 

And  still  the  frightening  echoes  grow, 
As  it  <roes  sounding  on. 


112  PREDESTINA  TION. 

My  fears  adore  Thee,  0  my  God ! 

My  heart  is  chilled  with  awe ; 
Yet  love  from  out  that  very  chill 

Fresh  life  and  heat  can  draw. 

Thou  owest  me  no  duties,  Lord  ! 

Thy  Being  hath  no  ties ; 
The  world  lies  open  to  Thy  Will, 

Its  victim  and  its  prize. 

Father  !  Thy  power  is  merciful 

To  us  poor  worms  below, 
Not  bound  by  justice,  but  because 

Thyself  hath  willed  it  so. 

The  fallen  creature  hath  no  rights, 

No  voice  in  Thy  decrees  ; 
Yet  while  Thy  glory  owns  no  claims, 

Thy  love  makes  promises. 

Thou  mayest  have  willed  that  I  should 
In  friendship,  Lord!   with  Thee, 

Or  I  may  in  the  act  of  sin 
Touch  on  eternity. 

What  can  I  do  but  trust  Thee,  Lord  i 

For  Thou  art  God  alone  ? 
My  soul  is  safer  in  Thy  hands, 

Father  !  than  in  my  own. 


THE    RIGHT   MUST    WIN.  113 

I  worship  Thee  with  breathless  fears  ; 

Thou  wilt  do  what  Thou  wilt ; 
The  worst  Thine  anger  hath  in  store 

Is  far  below  my  guilt. 

O  fearful  thought !  one  act  of  sin 

Within  itself  contains 
The  power  of  endless  hate  of  God, 

And  everlasting  pains. 

For  me  to  do  such  act  I  know 

How  slight  a  change  I  need, 
Yet  know  not  if  restraining  grace 

For  me  hath  been  decreed. 

What  can  I  do  but  trust  Thee,  Lord  ? 

That  trust  my  heart  will  cheer ; 
And  love  must  learn  to  live  abashed 

Beneath  continual  fear. 

That  Thou  art  God  is  my  one  joy  ; 

Whatever  Thy  Will  may  be, 
Thy  glory  will  be  magnified 

In  Thy  last  doom  of  me. 


THE    RIGHT   MUST   WIN. 

Oh  it  is  hard  to  work  for  God, 
To  rise  and  take  His  part 

Upon  this  battlefield  of  earth, 
And  not  sometimes  lose  heart! 


114  THE   RIGHT  MUST    WIN. 

He  hides  Himself  so  wondrously, 
As  though  there  were  no  God ; 

He  is  least  seen  when  all  the  powers 
Of  ill  are  most  abroad. 

Or  He  deserts  us  at  the  hour 

The  fight  is  all  but  lost ; 
And  seems  to  leave  us  to  ourselves 

Just  when  we  need  Him  most. 

Yes,  there  is  less  to  try  our  faith, 

In  our  mysterious  creed, 
Than  in  the  godless  look  of  earth, 

In  these  our  hours  of  need. 

Ill  masters  good ;  good  seems  to  change 

To  ill  with  greatest  ease ; 
And,  worst  of  all,  the  good  with  good 

Is  at  cross  purposes. 

It  is  not  so,  but  so  it  looks  ; 

And  we  lose  courage  then ; 
And  doubts  will  come  if  God  hath  kept 

His  promises  to  men. 

Ah  !  God  is  other  than  we  think  ; 

His  ways  are  far  above, 
Far  beyond  reason's  height,  and  reached 

Only  by  childlike  love. 


THE    RIGHT   MUST    WIN.  11^ 

The  look,  the  fashion  of  God's  ways 

Love's  lifelong  study  are  ; 
She  can  be  bold,  and  guess,  and  act, 

When  reason  would  not  dare. 

She  has  a  prudence  of  her  own ; 

Her  step  is  firm  and  free  ; 
Yet  there  is  cautious  science  too 

In  her  simplicity. 

Workmen  of  God !  Oh  lose  not  heart, 

But  learn  what  God  is  like  ; 
And  in  the  darkest  battlefield 

Thou  shalt  know  where  to  strike. 

Thrice  blest  is  he  to  whom  is  given 

The  instinct  that  can  tell 
That  God  is  on  the  field  when  He 

Is  most  invisible. 

Blest  too  is  he  who  can  divine 

Where  real  right  doth  lie,    - 
And  dares  to  take  the  side  that  seems 

Wrong  to  man's  blindfold  eye. 

Then  learn  to  scorn  the  praise  of  men, 

And  learn  to  lose  with  God ; 
For  Jesus  won  the  world  through  shame 

And  beckons  thee  His  road. 


ri6  THE    RIGHT   MUST    WIN. 

God's  glory  is  a  wondrous  thing, 
Most  strange  in  all  its  ways, 

And,  of  all  things  on  earth,  least  like 
What  men  agree  to  praise. 

As  He  can  endless  glory  weave 
From  what  men  reckon  shame, 

In  His  own  world  He  is  content 
To  play  a  losing  game. 

Muse  on  His  justice,  downcast  soul ! 

Muse  and  take  better  heart ; 
Back  with  thine  angel  to  the  field, 

And  bravely  do  thy  part. 

God's  justice  is  a  bed,  where  we 
Our  anxious  hearts  may  lay, 

And,  weary  with  ourselves,  may  sleep 
Our  discontent  away. 

For  right  is  right,  since  God  is  God ; 

And  right  the  day  must  win ; 
To  doubt  would  be  disloyalty, 

To  falter  would  be  sin. 


DESIRE  OF  GOD.  1 1 7 


DESIRE  OF  GOD. 

Oh  for  freedom,  for  freedom  in  worshipping 

God, 
For    the    mountain-top   feeling   of   generous 

souls, 
For  the  health,  for  the  air,  of  the  hearts  deep 

and  broad, 
Where  grace  not  in  rills  but  in  cataracts  rolls  ! 

Most  good  is  the  brisk  wholesome  service  of 

fear, 
And  the  calm  wise  obedience  of  conscience  is 

sweet ; 
And  good  are  all  worships,  all  loyalties  dear, 
All  promptitudes  fitting,  all  services  meet. 

But   none    honours    God    like    the    thirst   of 

desire, 
Nor  possesses  the  heart  so  completely  with 

Him; 
For  it  burns  the  world  out  with  the  swift  ease 

of  fire, 
And  fills  life  with  good  works  till  it  runs  o'ei 

the  brim. 

Then   pray  for   desire,  for   love's   wistfullest 

yearning, 
For  the  beautiful  pining  of  holy  desire ; 


Il8  DESIRE   OF  GOD. 

Yes,  pray  for  a  soul  that  is  ceaselessly  burn- 
ing 

With  the  soft  fragrant  flames  of  this  thrice 
happy  fire. 


For  the  heart  only  dwells,  truly  dwells  with 

its  treasure, 
And  the  languor  of  love  captive  hearts  can 

unfetter ; 
And  they  who  love   God  cannot  love  Him  by 

measure, 
For  their  love  is  but  hunger  to  love  Him  still 

better. 

Is   it   hard  to  serve  God,  timid  soul  ?    Hast 

thou  found 
Gloomy  forests,  dark  glens,  mountain-tops  on 

thy  way  ? 
All   the  hard  would  be  easy,  all  the  tangles 

unwound, 
Wouldst  thou  only  desire,  as  well  as  obey. 

For  the  lack  of  desire  is  the  ill  of  all  ills  ; 
Many  thousands  through  it  the  dark  pathway 

have  trod, 
The  balsam,  the  wine  of  predestinate  wills 
Is  a  jubilant  pining  and  longing  for  God. 


DESIRE    OF   GOD.  II9 

Tis  a  fire  that  will  burn  what  thou  canst  not 

pass  over ; 
Tis  a  lightning  that  breaks  away  all  bars  to 

love ; 
Tis  a  sunbeam  the  secrets  of  God  to  discover  ; 
'Tis  the  wing  David  prayed  for,  the  wing  of 

the  Dove. 

I  have  seen  living  men — and  their  good  angels 

know 
How  they  failed  and  fell  short  through  the 

want  of  desire : 
Souls  once  almost  saints  have  descended  so 

low, 
'Twill  be  much  if  their  wings  bear  them  over 

the  fire. 

I  have  seen  dying  men  not  so  grand  in  their 

dying 
As  our  love  would  have  wished, — and  through 

lack  of  desire : 
Oh  that  we  may  die  languishing,  burning,  and 

sighing ; 
For   God's  last  grace  and  best  is  to  die  all 

on  fire. 

Tis  a  great  gift  of  God  to  live  after  our  Lord , 
Vet  the  old  Hebrew  times  they  were  ages  of 
fire, 


120  DESIRE    OF   GOD. 

When  fainting  souls  fed  on  each  dim  figured 

word, 
And  God  called  men  He  loved  most — the  Men 

of  Desire. 

Oh  then  wish  more  for  God,  burn  more  with 
desire, 

Covet  more  the  dear  sight  of  his  marvellous 
Face ; 

Pray  louder,  pray  longer,  for  the  sweet  gift  of 
fire 

To  come  down  on  thy  heart  with  its  whirl- 
winds of  grace. 

Yes,  pine   for  thy   God,  fainting  soul!   ever 

pine  ; 
Oh  languish  mid  all  that  life  brings  thee  of 

mirth ; 
Famished,  thirsty,  and  restless, — let  such  life 

be  thine, — 
For  what  sight  is  to  heaven,  desire  is  to  earth. 

God  loves  to  be  longed  for,  He  loves  to  be 

sought, 
For  He  sought  us  Himself  with  such  longing 

and  love : 
He  died  for  desire  of  us,  marvellous  thought ! 
And   He  yearns  for  us  now  to  be  with  Him 

above. 


SCHOOL    HYMN.  121 


SCHOOL  HYMN 


0  Jesus  !  God  and  Man  ! 

For  love  of  children  once  a  child ! 
0  Jesus  !  God  and  Man  ! 

We  hail  Thee  Saviour  sweet  and  mild. 

O  Jesus  !  God  and  Man  ! 

Make  us  poor  children  dear  to  Thee, 
And  lead  us  to  Thyself, 

To  love  Thee  for  eternity. 

0  Jesus  !  God's  dear  Son  ! 

On  Thee  for  grace  we  children  call ; 
Make  us  all  men  to  love, 

But  to  love  Thee  beyond  them  all. 

O  Jesus  !  bless  our  work, 

Our  sorrows  soothe,  our  sins  forgive  ; 
O  happy,  happy  they 

Who  in  the  Church  of  Jesus  live  ! 

0  God,  most  great  and  good, 
At  work  or  play,  by  night  or  day, 

Make  us  remember  Thee, 
Who  so  rememberest  us  alway. 


122  THE    TRUE    SHEPHERD. 


THE  TRUE  SHEPHERD. 

I  was  wandering  and  weary 

When  my  Saviour  came  unto  me  ; 
For  the  ways  of  sin  grew  dreary, 

And  the  world  had  ceased  to  woo  me  : 
And  I  thought  I  heard  Him  say, 
As  He  came  along  His  way, 

O  silly  souls  !  come  near  Me  ; 
My  sheep  should  never  fear  Me ; 
I  am  the  Shepherd  true. 

At  first  I  would  not  hearken, 

And  put  off  till  the  morrow ; 
But  life  began  to  darken, 

And  I  was  sick  with  sorrow ; 
And  I  thought  I  heard  Him  say, 
As  He  came  along  His  way, 

Oh  silly  souls  !  come  near  Me ; 
My  sheep  should  never  fear  Me ; 
I  am  the  Shepherd  true. 

At  last  I  stopped  to  listen, 

His  voice  could  not  deceive  me  ; 

I  saw  His  kind  eyes  glisten, 
So  anxious  to  relieve  me  : 

And  I  thought  I  heard  Him  say, 

As  He  came  along  His  way, 


THE    TRUE    SHEPHERD.  1 23 

Oh  silly  souls  !  come  near  Me  ; 
My  sheep  shpuld  never  fear  Me ; 
I  am  the  Shepherd  true. 

He  took  me  on  His  shoulder, 

And  tenderly  He  kissed  me ; 
He  bade  my  love  be  bolder, 

And  said  how  He  had  missed  me ; 
And  I'm  sure  I  heard  Him  say, 
As  He  went  along  His  way, 

O  silly  souls  !  come  near  Me  ; 
My  sheep  should  never  fear  Me  ; 
I  am  the  Shepherd  true. 

Strange  gladness  seemed  to  move  Him, 

Whenever  I  did  better  ; 
And  he  coaxed  me  so  to  love  Him, 

As  if  He  was  my  debtor ; 
And  I  always  heard  Him  say, 
As  He  went  along  His  way, 

0  silly  souls  !  come  near  me  ; 
My  sheep  should  never  fear  Me  ; 

1  am  the  Shepherd  true. 

I  thought  His  love  would  weaken, 
As  more  and  more  He  knew  me  ; 

But  it  burnetii  like  a  beacon  ; 

And  its  light  and  heat  go  through  me  ; 

And  I  ever  hear  Him  say, 

As  He  goes  along  His  way, 


L24  COME    TO    JESUS. 

O  silly  souls  !  come  near  Me  ; 
My  sheep  should  never  fear  Me ; 
I  am  the  Shepherd  true. 

Let  us  do  then,  dearest  brothers  ! 

What  will  best  and  longest  please  us, 
Follow  not  the  ways  of  others, 

But  trust  ourselves  to  Jesus  ; 
We  shall  ever  hear  Him  say, 
As  He  goes  along  His  way, 

O  silly  souls  !  come  near  Me  ; 
My  sheep  should  never  fear  Me ; 
I  am  the  Shepherd  true. 


COME  TO  JESUS. 

Souls  of  men !  why  will  ye  scatter 
Like  a  crowd  of  frightened  sheep  ? 

Foolish  hearts  !  why  will  ye  wander 
From  a  love  so  true  and  deep  ? 

Was  there  ever  kindest  shepherd 
Half  so  gentle,  half  so  sweet 

As  the  Saviour  who  would  have  us 
Come  and  gather  round  His  Feet? 

It  is  God  :  His  love  looks  mighty, 
But  is  mightier  than  it  seems : 

'Tis  our  Father:  and  His  fondness 
Goes  far  out  beyond  our  dreams. 


COME    TO    JESUS.  1 25 

There's  a  wideness  in  God's  mercy, 

Like  the  wideness  of  the  sea: 
There's  a  kindness  in  His  justice, 

Which  is  more  than  liberty. 

There  is  no  place  where  earth's  sorrows 
Are  more  felt  than  up  in  heaven ; 

There  is  no  place  where  earth's  failings 
Have  such  kindly  judgment  given. 

There  is  welcome  for  the  sinner, 
And  more  graces  for  the  good ; 

There  is  mercy  with  the  Saviour ; 
There  is  healing  in  His  Blood. 

There  is  grace  enough  for  thousands 
Of  new  worlds  as  great  as  this  ; 

There  is  room  for  fresh  creations 
In  that  upper  home  of  bliss. 

For  the  love  of  God  is  broader 

Than  the  measures  of  man's  mind ; 

And  the  Heart  of  the  Eternal 
Is  most  wonderfully  kind. 

But  we  make  His  love  too  narrow 

By  false  limits  of  our  own  ; 
And  we  magnify  His  strictness 

With  a  zeal  He  will  not  own. 


126       INVITATION    TO    THE    MISSION. 

There  is  plentiful  redemption 
In  the  Blood  that  has  been  shed; 

There  is  joy  for  all  the  members 
In  the  sorrows  of  the  Head. 

'Tis  not  all  we  owe  to  Jesus  ; 

It  is  something  more  than  all ; 
Greater  good  because  of  evil, 

Larger  mercy  through  the  fall. 

Pining  Souls  !  come  nearer  Jesus, 
And  oh  come  not  doubting  thus, 

But  with  faith  that  trusts  more  bravely 
His  huge  tenderness  for  us. 

If  our  love  were  but  more  simple, 
We  should  take  Him  at  His  word ; 

And  our  lives  would  be  all  sunshine 
In  the  sweetness  of  our  Lord. 


INVITATION  TO  THE  MISSION. 

Oh  come   to  the   merciful  Saviour  who  calls 
you, 
O  come  to  the  Lord  who  forgives  and  for- 
gets; 
Though   dark  be  the  fortune  on   earth   that 
befalls  you, 
There's  a  bright  home  above  where  the  sun 
never  sets. 


INVITATION    TO    THE    MISSION.        12  J 

O  come  then  to  Jesus,  whose  arms  are  extended 
To  fold  His  dear  children  in  closest  embrace  ; 

Oh  come,  for  your  exile  will  shortly  be  ended, 
And  Jesus  will  show  you  His  beautiful  Face. 


Yes,  come  to  the  Saviour,  whose  mercy  grows 
brighter 
The  longer  you  look  at  the  depths  of  His 
love ; 
And  fear  not !  'tis  Jesus,  and  life's  cares  grow 
lighter, 
As  you  think  of  the   home  and   the  glory 
above. 

Have  you  sinned  as  none  else  in  the  world 
have  before  you  ? 
Are  you  blacker  than  all  other  creatures  in 
guilt? 
Oh  fear  not,  and  doubt  not !  the  mother  who 
bore  you 
Loves  you  less  than  the  Saviour  whose  Blood 
you  have  spilt. 

O  come  then  to  Jesus,  and  say  how  you  love 
Him, 
And  vow  at  His  feet  you  will  keep  in   His 
grace  ; 


128  THE  WAGES    OF   SIN. 

For  one  tear  that  is  shed  by  a  sinner  can  move 
Him, 
And  your  sins  will  drop  off  in  His  tender 
embrace. 

Come,  come  to  his  feet  and  lay  open  your  story 
Of  suffering  and  sorrow,  of  guilt   and   of 
shame  ; 
For  the  pardon  of  sin  is  the  crown  of  His 
glory, 
And  the  joy  of  our  Lord  to  be  true  to  His 
Name. 

Come  quickly  to  Jesus  for  graces  and  pardons, 
Come  now,  for  who  needs  not  His  mercy  and 
love  ? 
Believe  me,  dear  children,  that  England's  fair 
gardens 
Are  dull  to  the  bright  land  that  waits  you 
above. 


THE  WAGES  OF  SIN. 

Oh  what  are  the  wages  of  sin, 

The  end  of  the  race  we  have  run  ? 

We  have  slaved  for  the  master  we  chose, 
And  what  is  the  prize  we  have  won  ? 


THE    WAGES    OF   SIN.  120, 

We  gave  away  all  things  for  him, 
And  in  truth  it  was  much  that  was  given, — 

We  gave  away  Jesus  and  God, 

And  the  chance  of  our  getting  to  heaven 

We  are  worn  out  and  weary  with  sin ; 

Its  pleasures  are  poor  at  the  best; 
For  what  we  remember,  not  worth 

Half  an  hour  of  a  conscience  at  rest. 

For  sin  in  the  hand  is  not  like 
The  bright  thing  it  looked  to  the  eye  : 

Its  taste  is  still  worse  than  its  touch  ; 
Yet  we  swallow  the  poison  and  die. 

Oh  fools  that  we  were !  can  we  now 
Break  off  the  bad  bargain  we  made  ? 

And  is  there  a  way  to  get  back 

The  rash  price  we  already  have  paid  ? 

Oh  yes !  we  have  got  but  to  send 
One  word  or  one  sigh  up  to  heaven, 

The  mischief  will  all  be  undone, 

And  the  past  be  completely  forgiven. 

Jesus  is  just  what  He  was, 

On  the  Cross,  as  we  left  Him  before, 
All  gentleness,  mercy,  and  love, 

Nay,  His  love  and  His  mercv  look  more 
9 


130  A    GOOD    CONFESSION. 

We  will  back  with  our  hearts  in  our  hands, 
For  the  heart  is  His  one  only  fee ; 

Forgive  us,  dear  Jesus,  forgive, 
All  we  want  is  forgiveness  from  Thee. 


A  GOOD  CONFESSION. 

The  chains  that  have  bound  me  are  flung  to 
the  wind, 
By  the  mercy  of  God  the  poor  slave  is  set 
free ; 
And  the  strong  grace  of  heaven  breathes  fresh 
o'er  the  mind, 
Like  the  bright  winds  of  summer  that  glad- 
den the  sea. 

There  was  nought  in  God's  world  half  so  dark 
or  so  vile 
As  the  sin  and  the  bondage  that  fettered 
my  soul ; 
There  was  nought  half  so  base  as  the  malice 
and  guile 
Of  my  own  sordid  passions,  or  Satan's  con- 
trol. 

For   years    I    have  borne    about   hell    in   my 
breast ; 
When  I  thought  of  my  God  it  was  nothing 
but  gloom ; 


A    GOOD    CONFESSION.  131 

Day  brought  me  no  pleasure,  night  gave  me 
no  rest, 
There  was  still  the  grim  shadow  of  horrible 
doom. 

It  seemed  as  if  nothing  less  likely  could  be 
Than  that  light  should  break  in  on  a  dun- 
geon so  deep ; 
To  create  a  new  world  were  less  hard  than  to 
free 
The  slave  from  his  bondage,  the  soul  from 
its  sleep. 

But  the  word  had  gone  forth,  and  said,  Let 
there  be  light, 
And  it  flashed  through  my  soul  like  a  sharp 
passing  smart ; 
One  look  to  my  Saviour,  and  all  the  dark  night, 
Like  a  dream  scarce  remembered,  was  gone 
from  my  heart. 

I  cried  out  for  mercy,  and  fell  on  my  knees, 
And  confessed,  while  my  heart  with  keen 
sorrow  was  wrung: : 
Twas    the    labor  of    minutes,    and    years    of 
disease 
Fell  as  fast  from  my  soul  as  the  words  from 
my  tongue. 


132  THE    ACT    OF    CONTRITION. 

And  now,  blest  be  God  and  the  sweet  Lord 
who  died ! 
No  deer  on  the  mountain,  no  bird  in  the  sky, 
No  bright  wave  that  leaps  on  the  dark  bound- 
ing tide, 
Is  a  creature  so  free  or  so  happy  as  I. 

All  hail,  then,  all   hail,  to  the  dear  Precious 
Blood, 
That  hath  worked  these  sweet  wonders  of 
mercy  in  me ; 
May  each  day  countless  numbers  throng  down 
to  its  flood, 
And  God  have  His  glory,  and  sinners  go 
free. 

THE  ACT  OF  CONTRITION. 

My   God!   who   art   nothing  but   mercy  and 
kindness, 
Ah  shut  not   Thine    ear   to   the  penitent's 
prayer ; 
'Tis  Thy  grace  that  hath  cured  me,  dear  Lord, 
of  my  blindness, 
Thy  love  that  hath  lifted  me  up  from  despair. 

Oh  cruel,  most  cruel !  the  bondage  of  evil 
That  hath  kept  me  so  fast,  and  hath  held 
me  so  low ; 


THE    ACT    OF    CONTRITION.  1 33 

And  fearful  the  hold,  the  strong  hold  of  thp 
devil, 
And  the  keen  bitter  fires  of  the  long  hopeless 
woe. 

But,  O  God !  by  Thy  mercy  my  mind  is  en- 
lightened ; 
I  feel  a  new  purpose  burn  strong   in   my 
heart ; 
I  come  to  Thee  now  like  a  child  scared  and 
frightened, 
And   I   cling   to    Thy   love    and  will  never 
depart. 

There  is  not  one  evil  that  sin  hath  not  brought 
me, 
There  is  not  one  good  that  hath  come  in  its 
train ; 
It  hath  cursed  me  through  life,  and  its  sorrows 
have  sought  me, 
Each  day  that  went  by,  in  want,  sickness, 
or  pain. 

And  then,  when  this  life  of  affliction  is  ended, 
What  a  home  for  my  weary  heart  did  it  pre- 
pare ? 
The  anger  of  Him  whom  my  sins  had  offended, 
And    the    night,  the    sick    night  of    eternal 
despair. 


134  THE    ACT    0F   CONTRITION. 

Yes  !  death  would  have  come,  and  its  ange, 
have  torn  me 
By  force  to  the  judgment  where  hope  could 
not  be  : 
And  the  spirit  of  darkness  from  thence  would 
have  borne  me 
To  unspeakable  woes  in  his  wide  burning 
sea. 

Where  the  worms  and  the  wails  and  the  lashes 
cease  never, 
My  poor  ruined  soul  would  have  sickened 
of  fire, 
And  I  should  be  tortured  for  ever  and  ever, 
But  the  pains  of  eternity  never  would  tire. 

The   corn-field  all  trampled   to  mud  by  the 
cattle, 
The  house  whose  scorched  walls  have  been 
blackened  by  fire, — 
Ah !  such   was   my   soul   when   the   desolate 
battle 
Of  sin  raged  within  it,  and  sinful  desire. 


But  away,  mortal  sin !  by  the  help  of  my  God, 
From  thy  false  poisoned  fruits  I  will  firmly 
refrain  ; 


THE    ACT  OF   CONTRITION.  135 

I  have  vowed,  mortal  sin !    I  have  manfully 
vowed, 
I  will  touch  thee  not,  taste  tree  not  ever 
again. 

I  abjure  the  dark  spirit  who  fondles  yet  hates 
me, 
I  abjure  mortal  sin,  the  black  gift  he  hath 
given ; 
I  hate  it  for  fear  of  the  fire  that  awaits  me, 
I  hate  it  for  hope  of  God's  beautiful  heaven. 

I    hate  it  because  the  dear  Lord  that  would 
ease  us 
Sweated   blood    when    He   thought  of   the 
horror  of  sin  ; 
I  hate  it  because  it  had  crucified  Jesus, 
Who  hath  done  all  He  can  the  worst  sinners 
to  wTin. 

And  I  swear  to  Thee — yes,  dearest  Jesus  !  Oh 
let  me, 
In  the  strength  of  Thy  grace,  swear  an  oath 
unto  Thee, 
No  sin  !  never  more  !  if  Thou  wilt  not  forget 
me, 
But  in  Thy  sweet  mercy  have  mercy  on  me 


I36  CONVERSION. 


CONVERSION. 

O  Faith  !  thou  workest  miracles 

Upon  the  hearts  of  men, 
Choosing  thy  home  in  those  same  hearts 

We  know  not  how  nor  when. 

To  one  thy  grave  unearthly  truths 

A  heavenly  vision  seem  ; 
While  to  another's  eye  they  are 

A  superstitious  dream. 

To  one  the  deepest  doctrines  look 

So  naturally  true, 
That  when  he  learns  the  lesson  first 

He  hardly  thinks  it  new. 

To  other  hearts  the  selfsame  truths 

No  light  or  heat  can  bring ; 
They  are  but  puzzling  phrases  strung 

Like  beads  upon  a  string. 

O  gift  of  gifts  !  O  grace  of  Faith  ! 

My  God  !  how  can  it  be 
That  Thou,  who  hast  discerning  love, 

Shouldst  give  that  gift  to  me  ? 


CONVERSION.  137 

There  was  a  place,  there  was  a  time, 

Whether  by  night  or  day, 
Thy  Spirit  came  and  left  that  gift, 

And  went  upon  His  way. 

I  low  many  hearts  Thou  mightst  have  had 

More  innocent  than  mine, 
How  many  souls  more  worthy  far 

Of  that  sweet  touch  of  Thine  ! 

Ah  grace  !  into  unlikeliest  hearts 

It  is  thy  boast  to  come, 
The  glory  of  thy  light  to  find 

In  darkest  spots  a  home. 

How  can  they  live,  how  will  they  die, 

How  bear  the  cross  of  grief, 
Who  have  not  got  the  light  of  faith, 

The  courage  of  belief  ? 

The  crowd  of  cares,  the  weightiest  cross, 

Seem  trifles  less  than  light; 
Earth  looks  so  little  and  so  low, 

When  faith  shines  full  and  bright. 

Oh  happy,  happy  that  I  am ! 

If  thou  canst  be,  O  Faith, 
The  treasure  that  thou  art  in  life, 

What  wilt  thou  be  in  death  ? 


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140  FORGIVENESS   OF  INJURIES. 

Yes,  we,  dear  Lord !  Thy  voice  can  tell ; 
That  gentle  voice,  we  know  it  well ; 
Yet  never  was  it  sweet  and  clear 
As  now  when  we  this  promise  hear, — 
Poor  souls  !  who  sadly  doubt  of  heaven, 
Forgive,  and  you  shall  be  forgiven. 

Sweet  Faith  !  and  can  this  pledge  be  true 
And  is  the  duty  hard  to  do  ? 
No  one,  dear  Lord  !  hath  done  to  me 
Such  wrong  as  I  have  done  to  Thee. 
Why  should  not  all  men  go  to  heaven  ? 
They  who  forgive  will  be  forgiven. 

Thine  offers,  earth !  to  this  are  dull, — 

Full  mercy  to  the  merciful : — 

O  joy  to  every  soul  that  lives  ! 

Such  beautiful  bright  words  He  gives, 

Whose  royal  promise  cheapens  heaven, — 

Forgive,  and  you  shall  be  forgiven. 

Then  listen  to  us,  Jesus,  Lord! 

See  how  we  take  Thee  at  Thy  word : 

Oh  as  we  hope  with  Thee  to  live, 

So  from  our  hearts  do  we  forgive  ; 

And  from  this  hour  we  do  not  know 

The  thought,  the  thing  men  mean  by  foe. 

Yes  !  saved  and  saints  we  all  will  be  ; 
All  of  us,  Lord  !  will  come  to  Thee  ; 


THE    WORLD.  I41 

Dear  heaven !  the  work  for  thee  is  done, — 
How  easily,  how  sweetly  won  ! 
Yes  !  thou  art  ours,  eternal  heaven  ! 
For  we  forgave,  and  are  forgiven. 


THE  WORLD. 

0  Jesus  !  if  in  days  gone  by 

My  heart  hath  loved  the  world  too  well, 
It  needs  more  love  for  love  of  Thee 

To  bid  this  cherished  world  farewell. 

And  yet  I  can  rejoice  there  are 
So  many  things  on  earth  to  love, 

So  many  idols  for  the  fire, 

My  love  and  loyal  change  to  prove. 

He  that  loves  most  hath  most  to  lose, 
And  willing  loss  is  love's  best  prize  ; 

The  more  that  Yesterday  hath  loved 
The  more  To-day  can  sacrifice. 

0  Earth  !  thou  art  too  beautiful, 

And  thou,  dear  Home  !  thou  art  too  sweet, 
The  winning  ways  of  flesh  and  blood 

Too  smooth  for  sinners'  pilgrim  feet. 


142  THE    WORLD. 

The  woods  and  flowers,  and  running  streams, 
The  sunshine  of  the  common  skies, 

The  round  of  household  peace — what  heart 
But  owns  the  might  of  these  dear  ties  ? 

The  sweetness  of  known  faces  is 
A  couch  where  weary  souls  repose  ; 

Known  voices  are  as  David's  harp 
Bewitching  Saul's  oppressive  woes. 

And  yet,  bright  World  !  thou  art  not  wise  ; 

Oh  no  !  enchantress  though  thou  art, 
Thou  art  not  skilful  in  thy  way 

Of  dealing  with  a  weary  heart. 

If  thou  hadst  kept  thy  faith  with  me, 
I  might  have  been  thy  servant  still ; 

But  slighted  love  and  broken  faith, 

Poor  world !  these  are  beyond  thy  skill. 

Oh  bless  thee,  bless  thee,  treacherous  World  ! 

That  thou  dost  play  so  false  a  part, 
A.nd  drive,  like  sheep  into  the  fold, 

Our  loves  into  our  Saviour's  Heart. 

This  have  I  leaned  upon,  sweet  Lord  ! 

This  world  hath  had  Thy  rightful  place ; 
But  come,  dear  jealous  King  of  love  ! 

Come,  and  begin  Thy  reign  of  grace. 


THE    END    OF   MAN.  1 43 

Banish  far  from  me  all  I  love, 

The  smiles  of  friends,  the  old  fireside, 

And  drive  me  to  that  home  of  homes, 
The  Heart  of  Jesus  Crucified. 

Take  all  the  light  away  from  earth, 
Take  all  that  men  can  love  from  me  ; 

Let  all  I  lean  upon  give  way, 

That  I  may  lean  on  nought  but  Thee. 


THE  END  OF  MAN. 

I  come  to  Thee  once  more,  my  God  ! 

No  longer  will  I  roam ; 
For  I  have  sought  the  wide  world  through, 

And  never  found  a  home. 

Though  bright  and  many  are  the  spots 

Where  I  have  built  a  nest, 
Yet  in  the  brightest  still  I  pined 

For  more  abiding  rest. 

Riches  could  bring  me  joy  and  power, 

And  they  were  fair  to  see  ; 
Vet  gold  was  but  a  sorry  god 

To  serve  instead  of  Thee. 


144  THE    END    0F   MAN. 

Then  honour  and  the  world's  good  word 

Appeared  a  nobler  faith  ; 
Yet  could  I  rest  on  bliss  that  hung 

And  trembled  on  a  breath  ? 

The  pleasure  of  the  passing  hour 

My  spirit  next  could  wile  ; 
But  soon,  full  soon  my  heart  fell  sick 

Of  pleasure's  weary  smile. 

More  selfish  grown,  I  worshipped  health, 
The  flush  of  manhood's  power ; 

But  then  it  came  and  went  so  quick, 
It  was  but  for  an  hour. 

And  thus  a  not  unkindly  world 

Hath  done  its  best  for  me  ; 
Yet  I  have  found,  O  God !  no  rest, 

No  harbour  short  of  Thee. 

For  Thou  hast  made  this  wondrous  soul 

All  for  Thyself  alone  ; 
Ah  !  send  Thy  sweet  transforming  grace 

To  make  it  more  Thine  own. 


THE     REMEMBRANCE     OF   MERCY.     1 45 


THE  REMEMBRANCE  OF  MERCY. 

Why  art  thou  sorrowful,  servant  of  God  ? 
And  what  is  this  dulness  that  hangs  o'er 
thee  now  ? 
Sing   the   praises   of  Jesus,    and   sing   them 
aloud, 
And  the  song  shall  dispel  the  dark  cloud 
from  thy  brow. 

For  is  there  a  thought  in  the  wide  world  so 

sweet, 
As  that   God  has  so  cared  for  us,  bad    as 

we  are, 
That  He  thinks  of  us,  plans  for  us,  stoops  to 

entreat, 
And  follows  us,  wander  we  ever  so  far  ? 

Then  how  can  the  heart  e'er  be  drooping  or 
sad, 
Which   God   hath   once    touched  with  the 
light  of  His  grace  ? 
Can    the    child   have  a  doubt  who  but  lately 
hath  laid 
Himself  to  repose  in  his  father's  embrace  ? 

And  is  it  not  wonderful,  servant  of  God  ! 
That  He  should  have  honoured  us  so  with 
His  love, 

10 


I46     THE    REMEMBRANCE    OF  MERCY. 

That  the  sorrows  of  life  should  but  shorten 
the  road 
Which  leads  to  Himself  and  the  mansion 
above  ? 

Oh  then  when  the  spirit  of  darkness  comes 
down 
With   clouds   and    uncertainties    into    thy 
heart, 
One  look  to  thy  Saviour,  one  thought  of  thy 
crown, 
And  the  tempest  is  over,  the  shadows  de- 
part. 

That   God   hath    once   whispered  a  word  in 
thine  ear, 
Or  sent  thee  from  heaven  one  sorrow  for 
sin, 
Is  enough  for  a  life  both  to  banish  all  fear, 
And   to   turn   into   peace   all  the    troubles 
within. 

The    schoolmen    can    teach    thee    far    less 
about  heaven, 
Of  the  height  of  God's  power,  or  the  depth 
of  His  love, 
Than  the  fire  in  thy  heart  when  thy  sin  was 
forgiven, 
Or  the  light  that  one  mercy  brings  down 
from  above. 


THE    CHRISTIAN'S   SONG,    ETC.        1 47 

Then  why  dost  thou  weep  so  ?  For  see  how 
time  flies, 
The  time  that  for  loving  and  praising  was 
given ! 
Away  with  thee,  child,  then,  and  hide  thy  red 
eyes 
In  the  lap,  the  kind  lap,  of  thy  Father  in 
heaven. 


THE    CHRISTIAN'S   SONG    ON    HIS 
MARCH  TO  HEAVEN. 

Blest  is  the  Faith,  divine  and  strong, 
Of  thanks  and  praise  an  endless  fountain, 

Whose  life  is  one  perpetual  song, 
High  up  the  Saviour's  holy  mountain. 

Blest  is  the  Hope  that  holds  to  God 
In  doubt  and  darkness  still  unskaken, 

And  sings  along  the  heavenly  road, 
Sweetest  when  most  it  seems  forsaken. 

Blest  is  the  Love  that  cannot  love 

Aught  that  earth  gives  of  best  and  brightest ; 
Whose  raptures  thrill  like  saints'  above, 

Most  when  its  earthly  gifts  are  lightest. 


£48  FIGHT    FOR    SI  ON. 

Blest  is  the  Time  that  in  the  eye 
Of  God  its  hopeful  watch  is  keeping, 

And  grows  into  eternity, 
Like  noiseless  trees,  when  men  are  sleeping 


FIGHT  FOR  SION. 

Now  first  for  thee,  thou  wicked  world, 
Purled  up  with  godless  pomp  and  pageant ; 

Avenging  grace  to  humble  thee 

Can  make  the  weakest  arm  its  agent. 

And  thou,  dark  fiend,  six  thousand  years 
The  Bride  of  Christ  in  vain  tormenting, 

Shall  find  our  hate  and  scorn  of  thee 
Deep  as  thine  own,  and  unrelenting. 

Ah  self  !  so  oft  forgiven,  thou 

Canst  play  no  part  but  that  of  traitor ; 

We  spare  thy  life  ;  but  thou  must  bear 
The  felon's  brand,  the  captive's  fetter. 

But  worse  than  devil,  flesh,  or  world, 
Human  respect,  like  poison  creeping, 

Chills  and  unnerves  the  hosts  of  Christ, 
When  weary  war-worn  hearts  are  sleeping 

Like  lions  roaring  for  their  prey, 

Armies  of  foes  are  round  us  trooping  : 

What  then  ?  see  !  countless  angels  come 
To  heal  the  hurt,  to  raise  the  drooping. 


PERFECTION.  L49 

Then  bravely,  comrades,  to  the  fight, 

With  shout  and  song  each  other  cheering  ; 

Strength  not  our  own  from  heaven  descends, 
The  sun  breaks  out,  the  clouds  are  clearing. 

On  to  the  gates  of  Sion,  on ! 

Break  through  the  foe  with  fresh  endeavour  ; 
We'll  hang  our  colours  up  in  heaven, 

When  peace  shall  be  proclaimed  for  ever. 


PERFECTION. 

Oh  how  the  thought  of  God  attracts 
And  draws  the  heart  from  earth, 

And  sickens  it  of  passing  shows 
And  dissipating  mirth  ! 

'Tis  not  enough  to  save  our  souls, 

To  shun  the  eternal  fires ; 
The  thought  of  God  will  rouse  the  heart 

To  more  sublime  desires. 

God  only  is  the  creature's  home, 

Though  rough  and  straight  the  road  ; 

Yet  nothing  less  can  satisfy 
The  love  that  longs  for  God. 

Oh  utter  but  the  Name  of  God 
Down  in  your  heart  of  hearts, 

And  see  how  from  the  world  at  once 
All  tempting  light  departs. 


15°  PERFECTION. 

A  trusting  heart,  a  yearning  eye, 

Can  win  their  way  above  ; 
If  mountains  can  be  moved  by  faith, 

Is  there  less  power  in  love  ? 

How  little  of  that  road,  my  soul ! 

How  little  hast  thou  gone  ! 
Take  heart,  and  let  the  thought  of  God 

Allure  thee  further  on. 

The  freedom  from  all  wilful  sin, 
The  Christian's  daily  task, — 

Oh  these  are  graces  far  below 
What  longing  love  would  ask ! 

Dole  not  thy  duties  out  to  God, 

But  let  thy  hand  be  free  : 
Look  long  at  Jesus  ;  His  sweet  Blood, 

How  was  it  dealt  to  thee  ? 

The  perfect  way  is  hard  to  flesh ; 

It  is  not  hard  to  love ; 
If  thou  wert  sick  for  want  of  God, 

How  swiftly  wouldst  thou  move ! 

Then  keep  thy  conscience  sensitive  ; 

No  inward  token  miss  : 
And  go  where  grace  entices  thee  ; — 

Perfection  lies  in  this. 


THE    GIFTS    OF    GOD.  15  2 


Be  docile  to  thine  unseen  Guide, 
Love  Him  as  He  loves  thee ; 

Time  and  obedience  are  enough, 
And  thou  a  saint  shall  be. 


THE  GIFTS  OF  GOD. 

My  Soul!  what  hast  thou  done  for  God  ? 

Look  o'er  thy  misspent  years  and  see  ; 
Sum  up  what  thou  hast  done  for  God, 

And  then  what  God  hath  done  for  thee. 

He  made  thee  when  He  might  have  made 
A  soul  that  would  have  loved  Him  more  : 

He  rescued  thee  from  nothingness, 
And  set  thee  on  life's  happy  shore. 

He  placed  an  angel  at  thy  side, 

And  strewed  joys  round  thee  on  thy  way; 
He  gave  thee  rights  thou  couldst  not  claim, 

And  life,  free  life,  before  thee  lay. 

Had  God  in  heaven  no  work  to  do 

But  miracles  of  love  for  thee  ? 
No  world  to  rule,  no  joy  in  Self, 

And  in  His  own  infinity  ? 


*52  THE    GIFTS   OF   GOD. 

So  must  it  seem  to  our  blind  eyes  : 
He  gave  His  love  no  sabbath  rest, 

Still  plotting  happiness  for  men, 
And  new  designs  to  make  them  blest. 

From  out  His  glorious  Bosom  came 

His  only,  His  Eternal  Son ; 
He  freed  the  race  of  Satan's  slaves, 

And  with  His  Blood  sin's  captives  won. 

The  world  rose  up  against  His  love  : 
New  love  the  vile  rebellion  met, 

As  though  God  only  looked  at  sin 
Its  guilt  to  pardon  and  forget. 

For  His  Eternal  Spirit  came 
To  raise  the  thankless  slaves  to  sons, 

And  with  the  sevenfold  gifts  of  love 
To  crown  His  own  elected  ones. 

Men  spurned  His  grace  ;  their  lips  blasphemed 
The  Love  who  made  Himself  their  slave ; 

They  grieved  that  blessed  Comforter 
And  tu-ned  against  Him  what  He  gave. 

Yet  still  the  sun  is  fair  by  day, 
The  moon  still  beautiful  by  night ; 

The  world  goes  round,  and  joy  with  it, 
And  life,  free  life  is  men's  delight. 


THE    GIFTS    OF   GOD.  1 53 

No  voice  God's  wondrous  silence  breaks, 
No  hand  put  forth  His  anger  tells  ; 

But  He,  the  Omnipotent  and  Dread, 
On  high  in  humblest  patience  dwells. 

The  Son  hath  come ;  and  maddened  sin 

The  world's  Creator  crucified ; 
The  Spirit  comes,  and  stays,  while  men 

His  presence  doubt,  His  gifts  deride. 

And  now  the  Father  keeps  Himself, 
In  patient  and  forbearing  love, 

To  be  His  creature's  heritage 
In  that  undying  life  above. 

Oh  wonderful,  oh  passing  thought, 
The  love  that  God  hath  had  for  thee, 

Spending  on  thee  no  less  a  sum 
Than  the  Undivided  Trinity  ! 

Father,  and  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost, 
Exhausted  for  a  thing  like  this, — 

The  world's  whole  government  disposed 
For  one  ungrateful  creature's  bliss  ! 

What  hast  thou  done  for  God  my  soul  ? 

Look  o'er  thy  misspent  years  and  see , 
Cry  from  thy  worse  than  nothingness, 

Cry  for  His  mercy  upon  thee. 


x54  TRUE    LOVE. 


TRUE  LOVE. 

Think  well  how  Jesus  trusts  Himself 

Unto  our  childish  love, 
As  though  by  His  free  ways  with  us 

Our  earnestness  to  prove. 
God  gives  Himself  as  Mary's  Babe 

To  sinners'  trembling  arms, 
And  veils  His  everlasting  light 

In  childhood's  feeble  charms. 
His  sacred  Name  a  common  word 

On  earth  He  loves  to  hear ; 
There  is  no  majesty  in  Him 

Which  love  may  not  come  near. 
His  priests,  they  bear  Him  in  their  hands, 

Helpless  as  babe  can  be ; 
His  love  seems  very  foolishness 

For  its  simplicity. 

The  light  of  love  is  round  His  feet, 

His  paths  are  never  dim ; 
And  He  comes  nigh  to  us  when  we 

Dare  not  come  nigh  to  Him. 
Let  us  be  simple  with  Him  men, 

Not  backward,  stiff,  or  cold, 
As  though  our  Bethlehem  could  be 

What  Sina  was  of  old. 


TRUE    LOVE.  155 

His  love  of  us  may  teach  us  how 

To  love  Him  in  return  ; 
Love  cannot  help  but  grow  more  free 

The  more  its  transports  burn. 

The  solemn  face,  the  downcast  eye, 
The  words  constrained  and  cold, — 

These  are  the  homage,  poor  at  best, 
Of  those  outside  the  fold. 

They  know  not  how  our  God  can  play 
The  Babe's,  the  Brother's  part ; 

They  dream  not  of  the  ways  He  has 
Of  getting  at  the  heart. 

Most  winningly  He  lowers  Himself, 
Yet  they  dare  not  come  near ; 

They  cannot  know  in  their  blind  place 
The  love  that  casts  out  fear. 

In  lowest  depths  of  littleness 

God  sinks  to  gain  our  love ; 
They  put  away  the  sign  in  fear. 

And  our  free  ways  reprove. 

Would  that  they  knew  what  Jesus  was, 

And  what  untold  abyss 
Lies  in  love's  simple  forwardness 

Of  more  than  earthlv  bliss  ! 


156  TRUE    LOVE. 

Would  that  they  knew  what  faith  can  work, 

What  Sacraments  can  do, 
What  simple  love  is  like,  on  fire 

In  hearts  absolved  and  true  ! 

They  cannot  tell  how  Jesus  oft 

His  secret  thirst  will  slake 
On  those  strange  freedoms  childlike  hearts 

Are  taught  by  God  to  take. 

Poor  souls  !  they  know  not  how  to  love  ; 

They  feel  not  Jesus  near  ; 
And  they  who  know  not  how  to  love 

Still  less  know  how  to  fear. 

The  humbling  of  the  Incarnate  Word 
They  have  not  faith  to  face  ; 

And  how  shall  they  who  have  not  faith 
Attain  love's  better  grace  ? 

The  awe  that  lies  too  deep  for  words, 
Too  deep  for  solemn  looks, — 

It  finds  no  way  into  the  face, 
No  written  vent  in  books. 

They  would  not  speak  in  measured  tones 
If  love  had  in  them  wrought 

Until  their  spirits  had  been  hushed 
In  reverential  thought. 


TRUE    LOVE.  157 

They  would  have  smiled  in  harmless  ways 

To  ease  their  fevered  heart, 
And  learned  with  other  simple  souls 

To  play  love's  crafty  part. 

They  would  have  run  away  from  God 

For  their  own  vileness'  sake, 
And  feared  lest  some  interior  light 

From  tell-tale  eyes  should  break. 

They  know  not  how  the  outward  smile 

The  inward  awe  can  prove ; 
They  fathom  not  the  creature's  fear 

Of  Uncreated  Love. 

The  majesty  of  God  ne'er  broke 

On  them  like  fire  at  night, 
Flooding  their  stricken  souls,  while  they 

Lay  trembling  in  the  light. 

They  love  not;  for  they  have  not  kissed 

The  Saviour's  outer  hem  : 
They  fear  not ;  for  the  Living  God 

Is  yet  unknown  to  them. 


158  SELF-LOVE. 

SELF-LOVE. 

"  Christ  did  not  please  Himself."—  Romans,  xv.  3. 

Oh  I  could  go  through  all  life's  troubles  sing- 
ing, 

Turning  earth's  night  to  day, 
If  self  were  not  so  fast  around  me,  clinging 

To  all  I  do  or  say. 

My  very  thoughts  are  selfish,  always  building 

Mean  castles  in  the  air  ; 
I  use  my  love  of  others  for  a  gilding 

To  make  myself  look  fair. 

I  fancy  all  the  world  engrossed  with  judging 

My  merit  or  my  blame ; 
Its  warmest  praise  seems  an  ungracious  grudg 
ing. 

Of  praise  which  I  might  claim. 

In  youth  or  age,  by  city,  wood,  or  mountain, 

Self  is  forgotten  never; 
Where'er  we  tread,  it  gushes  like  a  fountain, 

And  its  waters  flow  for  ever. 

Alas  !  no  speed  in  life  can  snatch  us  wholly 

Out  of  self's  hateful  sight ; 
And  it  keeps  step,  whene'er  we  travel  slowly. 

And  sleeps  with  us  at  night. 


SELF-LOVE.  15$ 


No  grief's  sharp  knife,  no  pain's  most  cruel 
sawing 
Self  and  the  soul  can  sever  : 
The   surface,   that   in   joy   sometimes    seems 
thawing, 
Soon  freezes  worse  than  ever. 

Thus    we    are    never    men,   self's   wretched 
swathing 
Not  letting  virtue  swell; 
Thus    is   our   whole   life   numbed,   for    ever 
bathing 
Within  this  frozen  well. 

O  miserable  omnipresence,  stretching 

Over  all  time  and  space, 
How  have   I   run  from  thee,  yet  found  thee 
reaching 

The  goal  in  every  race. 

Inevitable  self!  vile  imitation 

Of  universal  light. — 
Within  our  hearts  a  dreadful  usurpation 

Of  God's  exclusive  right ! 

The  opiate  balms    of  grace   may   haply   still 
thee, 

Deep  in  my  nature  lying  ; 
For  I  may  hardly  hope,  alas  !  to  kill  thee, 

Save  by  the  act  of  dying. 


l6o  HARSH   JUDGMENTS. 

O  Lord !  that  I  could  waste  my  life  for  others. 

With  no  ends  of  my  own, 
That  I  could  pour  myself  into  my  brothers, 

And  live  for  them  alone  ! 

Such  was  the  life  Thou  livedst ;  self  abjuring, 

Thine  own  pains  never  easing, 
Dur  burdens  bearing,  our  just  doom  enduring, 

A  life  without  self-pleasing  ! 


HARSH  JUDGMENTS. 

O  God  !  whose  thoughts  are  brightest  light 
Whose  love  always  runs  clear, 

To  whose  kind  wisdom  sinning  souls 
Amidst  their  sins  are  dear ! 

Sweeten  my  bitter-thoughted  heart 

With  charity  like  Thine, 
Till  self  shall  be  the  only  spot 

On  earth  which  does  not  shine. 

Hardheartedness  dwells  not  with  souls 
Round  whom  Thine  arms  are  drawn ; 

And  dark  thoughts  fade  away  in  grace, 
Like  cloud-spots  in  the  dawn. 


HARSH   JUDGMENTS. 


I  often  see  in  my  own  thoughts, 
When  they  lie  nearest  Thee, 

That  the  worst  men  I  ever  knew 
Were  better  men  than  me. 

And  of  all  truths  no  other  truth 

So  true  as  this  one  seems ; 
While  others'  faults,  that  plainest  were, 

Grow  indistinct  as  dreams. 

All  men  look  good  except  ourselves, 
All  but  ourselves  are  great ; 

The  rays,  that  make  our  sins  so  clear, 
Their  faults  obliterate. 

Things,  that  appeared  undoubted  sins, 

Wear  little  crowns  of  light ; 
Their  dark,  remaining  darkness  still, 

Shames  and  outshines  our  bright. 

Time  was,  when  I  believed  that  wrong, 

In  others  to  detect, 
Was  part  of  genius,  and  a  gift 

To  cherish,  not  reject. 

Now  better  taught  by  Thee,  O  Lord  ! 

This  truth  dawns  on  my  mind, — 
The  best  effect  of  heavenly  light 

Is  earth's  false  eyes  to  blind. 
11 


1 62  HARSH    JUDGMENTS.      . 

Thou  art  the  Unapproached,  whose  height 

Enables  Thee  to  stoop, 
Whose  holiness  bends  undefiled 

To  handle  hearts  that  droop. 

He,  whom  no  praise  can  reach,  is  aye 
Men's  least  attempts  approving; 

Whom  justice  makes  all-merciful, 
Omniscience  makes  all-loving. 

How  Thou  canst  think  so  well  of  us, 

Yet  be  the  God  Thou  art, 
Is  darkness  to  my  intellect, 

But  sunshine  to  my  heart. 

Yet  habits  linger  in  the  soul ; 

More  grace,  O  Lord  !  more  grace  ! 
More  sweetness  from  Thy  loving  Heart, 

More  sunshine  from  Thy  Face  ! 

When  we  ourselves  least  kindly  are, 

We  deem  the  world  unkind  ; 
Dark  hearts,  in  flowers  where  honey  lies, 

Only  the  poison  find. 

We  paint  from  self  the  evil  things 

We  think  that  others  are  ; 
While  to  the  self-despising  soul 

All  things  but  self  are  fair. 


HARSH    JUDGMENTS.  1 63 

Yes,  they  have  caught  the  way  of  God, 

To  whom  self  lies  displayed 
In  such  clear  vision  as  to  cast 

O'er  others'  faults  a  shade. 

A  bright  horizon  out  at  sea 

Obscures  the  distant  ships  ; 
Rough  hearts  look  smooth  and  beautiful 

In  charity's  eclipse. 

Love's  changeful  mood  our  neighbour's  faults 

O'erwhelms  with  burning  ray, 
And  in  excess  of  splendour  hides 

What  is  not  burned  away. 

Again,  with  truth  like  God's,  it  shades 

Harsh  things  with  untrue  light, 
Like  moons  that  make  a  fairy-land 

Of  fallow  fields  at  night. 

Then  mercy,  Lord !  more  mercy  still ! 

Make  me  all  light  within, 
Self-hating  and  compassionate, 

And  blind  to  others'  sin. 

I  need  Thy  mercy  for  my  sin ; 

But  more  than  this  I  need, — 
Thy  mercy's  likeness  in  my  sou! 

For  others'  sin  to  bleed. 


164  DISTRACTIONS    IN    PRAYER. 

'Tis  not  enough  to  weep  my  sins ; 

'Tis  but  one  step  to  heaven : 
When  I  am  kind  to  others,  then 

I  know  myself  forgiven. 

Would  that  my  soul  might  be  a  world 

Of  golden  ether  bright, 
A  heaven  where  other  souls  might  float, 

Like  all  Thy  worlds,  in  light. 

All  bitterness  is  from  ourselves, 
All  sweetness  is  from  Thee; 

Sweet  God !  for  evermore  be  Thou 
Fountain  and  fire  in  me  ! 


DISTRACTIONS  IN  PRAYER. 

Ah  dearest  Lord  !  I  cannot  pray, 

My  fancy  is  not  free  ; 
Unmannerly  distractions  come, 

And  force  my  thoughts  from  Thee. 

The  world  that  looks  so  dull  all  day 
Glows  bright  on  me  at  prayer, 

And  plans  that  ask  no  thought  but  then 
Wake  up  and  meet  me  there. 


DISTRACTIONS    IN   PRAYER.  1 65 

All  nature  one  full  fountain  seems 

Of  dreamy  sight  and  sound, 
Which,  when  I  kneel,  breaks  up  its  deeps, 

And  makes  a  deluge  round. 

Old  voices  murmur  in  my  ear, 

New  hopes  start  into  life, 
And  past  and  future  gaily  blend 

In  one  bewitching  strife. 

My  very  flesh  has  restless  fits ; 

My  changeful  limbs  conspire 
With  all  these  phantoms  of  the  mind 

My  inner  self  to  tire. 

I  cannot  pray;  yet,  Lord!  Thou  knowst 

The  pain  it  is  to  me 
To  have  my  vainly  struggling  thoughts 

Thus  torn  away  from  Thee. 

Sweet  Jesus !  teach  me  how  to  prize 

These  tedious  hours  when  I, 
Foolish  and  mute  before  Thy  Face, 

In  helpless  worship  lie. 

Prayer  was  not  meant  for  luxury, 

Or  selfish  pastime  sweet; 
It  is  the  prostrate  creature's  place 

\t  his  Creator's  Feet. 


1 66  DISTRACTIONS    IN   PRAYER. 

Had  I,  dear  Lord!  no  pleasure  found 

But  in  the  thought  of  Thee, 
Prayer  would  have  come  unsought,  and  been 

A  truer  liberty. 

Yet  Thou  art  oft  most  present.  Lord ! 

In  weak  distracted  prayer  : 
A  sinner  out  of  heart  with  self 

Most  often  finds  Thee  there. 

For  prayer  that  humbles  sets  the  soul 

From  all  illusions  free, 
And  teaches  it  how  utterly, 

Dear  Lord!  it  hangs  on  Thee. 

The  heart,  that  on  self-sacrifice 

Is  covetously  bent, 
Will  bless  Thy  chastening  hand  that  makes 

Its  prayer  its  punishment. 

My  Saviour!  why  should  I  complain 

And  why  fear  aught  but  sin  ? 
Distractions  are  but  outward  things  ; 

Thy  peace  dwells  far  within. 

These  surface-troubles  come  and  go, 

Like  rufflings  of  the  sea; 
The  deeper  depth  is  out  of  reach 

To  all,  my  God,  but  Thee. 


SWEETXESS   IN    PR  A  YER.  1 67 


SWEETNESS  IN  PRAYER. 

Why  dost  thou  beat  so  quick,  my  heart  ? 

Why  struggle  in  thy  cage  ? 
What  shall  I  do  for  thee,  poor  heart ! 

Thy  throbbing  heat  to  swage  ? 

What  spell  is  this  come  over  thee, 
My  soul !  what  sweet  surprise  ? 

And  wherefore  these  unbidden  tears 
That  start  into  mine  eyes  ? 

How  great,  how  good  does  God  appear, 

How  dear  our  holy  faith, 
How  tasteless  life's  best  joys  have  grown, 

How  I  could  welcome  death  ! 

Thy  sweetness  hath  betrayed  Thee,  Lord ! 

Dear  Spirit !  it  is  Thou  ; 
Deeper  and  deeper  in  my  heart 

I  feel  Thee  nestling  now. 

Whence  Thou  hast  come  I  need  not  ask ; 

But,  dear  and  gentle  Dove  ! 
Oh  wherefore  hast  Thou  lit  on  one 

That  so  repays  Thy  love  ? 

Would  that  Thou  mightest  stay  with  me, 

Or  else  that  I  might  die 
While  heart  and  soul  are  still  subdued 

With  Thy  sweet  mastery. 


1 68  DRYNESS   IN   PRAYER. 

Thy  home  is  with  the  humble,  Lord  ! 

The  simple  are  Thy  rest ; 
Thy  lodging  is  in  child-like  hearts ; 

Thou  makest  there  Thy  nest. 

Dear  Comforter !  Eternal  Love  ! 

If  Thou  wilt  stay  with  me, 
Of  lowly  thoughts  and  simple  ways 

I'll  build  a  nest  for  Thee. 

My  heart,  sweet  Dove  !  I'll  lend  to  Thee 

To  mourn  with  at  Thy  will ; 
My  tongue  shall  be  Thy  lute  to  try 

On  sinners'  souls  Thy  skill. 

How  silver-like  Thy  plumage  is, 
Thy  voice  how  grave,  how  gay ! 

Ah  me !  how  I  shall  miss  Thee,  Lord  ! 
Then  promise  me  to  stay. 

Who  made  this  beating  heart  of  mine, 
But  Thou,  my  heavenly  Guest  ? 

Let  no  one  have  it  then  but  Thee, 
And  let  it  be  Thy  nest. 

DRYNESS  IN  PRAYER. 

Oh  for  the  happy  days  gone  by, 
When  love  ran  smooth  and  free, 

Days  when  my  spirit  so  enjoyed 
More  than  earth's  liberty ! 


DRYNESS   IN   PRAYER.  1 69 

Oh  for  the  times  when  on  my  heart 

Long  prayer  had  never  palled, 
Times  when  the  ready  thought  of  God 

Would  come  when  it  was  called  ! 

Then  when  I  knelt  to  meditate, 
Sweet  thoughts  came  o'er  my  soul, 

Countless  and  bright  and  beautiful, 
Beyond  my  own  control. 

What  can  have  locked  those  fountains  up  ? 

Those  visions  what  hath  stayed  ? 
What  sudden  act  hath  thus  transformed 

My  sunshine  into  shade  ? 

This  freezing  heart,  O  Lord  !  this  will 

Dry  as  the  desert  sand, 
Good  thoughts  that  will  not  come,  bad  thoughts 

That  come  without  command, — 

A  faith  that  seems  not  faith,  a  hope 

That  cares  not  for  its  aim, 
A  love  that  none  the  hotter  grows 

At  Thy  most  blessed  Name, — 

The  weariness  of  prayer,  the  mist 

O'er  conscience  overspread, 
The  chill  repugnance  to  frequent 

The  feast  of  angels'  Bread, — 


170  DRYNESS   IN  PRAYER. 

If  this  dear  change  be  Thine,  O  Lord ! 

If  it  be  Thy  sweet  will, 
Spare  not,  but  to  the  very  brim 

The  bitter  chalice  fill. 

But  if  it  hath  been  sin  of  mine, 

Then  show  that  sin  to  me, 
Not  to  get  back  the  sweetness  lost, 

But  to  make  peace  with  Thee. 

One  thing  alone,  dear  Lord  !  I  dread  ; — 

To  have  a  secret  spot 
That  separates  my  soul  from  Thee, 

And  yet  to  know  it  not. 

For  when  the  tide  of  graces  set 

So  full  upon  my  heart, 
I  know,  dear  Lord  !  how  faithlessly 

I  did  my  little  part. 

I  know  how  well  my  heart  hath  earned 

A  chastisement  like  this, 
In  trifling  many  a  grace  away 

In  self-complacent  bliss. 

But  if  this  weariness  hath  come 

A  present  from  on  high, 
Teach  me  to  find  the  hidden  wealth 

That  in  its  depths  may  lie. 


THE    PAIN   OF   LOVE.  I  7  I 

So  in  this  darkness  I  may  learn 

To  tremble  and  adore, 
To  sound  my  own  vile  nothingness, 

And  thus  to  love  Thee  more, — 

To  love  Thee,  and  yet  not  to  think 

That  I  can  love  so  much, — 
To  have  Thee  with  me,  Lord  !  all  day. 

Yet  not  to  feel  Thy  touch. 

If  I  have  served  Thee,  Lord  !  fcr  hire, 
Hire  which  Thy  beauty  showed, 

Can  I  not  serve  Thee  now  for  nought, 
And  only  as  my  God  ? 

Thrice  blessed  be  this  darkness  then, 

This  deep  in  which  I  lie, 
And  blessed  be  all  things  that  teach 

God's  dear  Supremacy ! 


THE  PAIN  OF  LOVE. 

fesus  !  why  dost  Thou  love  me  so  ? 

What  hast  Thou  seen  in  me 
To  make  my  happiness  so  great, 

So  dear  a  joy  to  Thee  ? 


172  THE    PAIN   OF  LOVE. 

Wert  Thou  not  God,  I  then  might  think 

Thou  hadst  no  eye  to  read 
The  badness  of  that  selfish  heart, 

For  which  Thine  own  did  bleed. 

But  Thou  art  God,  and  knowest  all ; 

Dear  Lord  !  Thou  knowest  me  ; 
And  yet  Thy  knowledge  hinders  not 

Thy  love's  sweet  liberty. 

Ah,  how  Thy  grace  hath  wooed  my  sou] 

With  persevering  wiles ! 
Now  give  me  tears  to  weep ;  for  tears 

Are  deeper  joy  than  smiles. 

Each  proof  renewed  of  Thy  great  love 
Humbles  me  more  and  more, 

And  brings  to  light  forgotten  sins, 
And  lays  them  at  my  door. 

The  more  I  love  Thee,  Lord !  the  more 

I  hate  my  own  cold  heart ; 
The  more  Thou  woundest  me  with  love, 

The  more  I  feel  the  smart. 

What  shall  I  do,  then,  dearest  Lord ! 

Say,  shall  I  fly  from  Thee, 
And  hide  my  poor  unloving  self 

Where  Thou  canst  never  see  ? 


LOW  SPIRITS.  173 

Or  shall  I  pray  that  Thy  dear  love 

To  me  might  not  be  given  ? 
Ah,  no !  love  must  be  pain  on  earth, 

If  it  be  bliss  in  heaven. 


LOW  SPIRITS. 

Fever,  and  fret,  and  aimless  stir, 

And  disappointed  strife, 
All  chafing  unsuccessful  things, 

Make  up  the  sum  of  life. 

Love  adds  anxiety  to  toil, 
And  sameness  doubles  cares, 

While  one  unbroken  chain  of  work 
The  flagging  temper  wears. 

The  light  and  air  are  dulled  with  smoke 
The  streets  resound  with  noise  ; 

And  the  soul  sinks  to  see  its  peers 
Chasing  their  joyless  joys. 

Voices  are  round  me ;  smiles  are  near; 

Kind  welcomes  to  be  had  ; 
And  yet  my  spirit  is  alone, 

Fretful,  outworn,  and  sad. 

A  weary  actor,  I  would  fain 

Be  quit  of  my  long  part; 
The  burden  of  unquiet  life 

Lies  heavy  on  my  heart. 


174  LOW   SPIRITS. 

Sweet  thought  of  God  !  now  do  thy  work, 

As  thou  hast  done  before  ; 
Wake  up,  and  tears  will  wake  with  thee, 

And  the  dull  mood  be  o'er. 

The  very  thinking  of  the  thought, 
Without  or  praise  or  prayer, 

Gives  light  to  know,  and  life  to  do, 
And  marvellous  strength  to  bear. 

Oh  there  is  music  in  that  thought 

Unto  a  heart  unstrung, 
Like  sweet  bells  at  the  evening-time 

Most  musically  rung. 

'Tis  not  His  justice  or  His  power, 

Beauty  or  blest  abode, 
But  the  mere  unexpanded  thought 

Of  the  Eternal  God. 

It  is  not  of  His  wondrous  works, 

Nor  even  that  He  is ; 
Words  fail  it,  but  it  is  a  thought 

Which  by  itself  is  bliss. 

Sweet  thought !  lie  closer  to  my  heart, 

That  I  may  feel  thee  near, 
As  one  who  for  his  weapon  feels 

In  some  nocturnal  fear. 


LIGHT  IN   DARKNESS.  1 75 

Mostly  in  hours  of  gloom  thou  com'st. 

When  sadness  makes  us  lowly, 
As  though  thou  wert  the  echo  sweet 

Of  humble  melancholy. 

I  bless  Thee,  Lord !  for  this  kind  check 

To  spirits  over  free, 
And  for  all  things  that  make  me  feci 

More  helpless  need  of  Thee. 


LIGHT  IN  DARKNESS. 

Once  in  the  simple  thought  of  God, 

My  old  repose  I  sought, 
But  lo !  the  well-known  peace  was  now 

No  longer  in  that  thought. 

My  spirit  fluttered  here  and  there, 
Beset  with  nameless  fears  ; 

My  eyes  with  very  dryness  burned, 
While  my  heart  shed  inward  tears. 

I  was  as  one  who  cannot  sleep, 

Upon  a  bed  of  pain, 
Too  restless  to  be  still  and  bear, 

Too  peevish  to  complain. 


176  LIGHT  IN  DARKNESS. 

Then  suddenly  a  silent  gloom 
Like  a  web  was  round  me  spun, 

As  grateful  as  a  sudden  shade 
After  a  scorching  sun. 

The  darkness  grew,  and,  as  it  grew 
More  dark,  it  grew  more  still ; 

And  something  dawned,  less  in  my  mind 
Than  deep  within  my  will. 

In  that  dark  dawn,  confused  yet  plain, 

I  thought  that  I  could  see, 
In  radiant  indistinctness  clad, 

The  Holy  Trinity. 

My  soul  lay  at  the  door  of  death, 
Anguish  and  dread  within  ; 

For  all  I  had  and  all  I  was 
Seemed  nothing  then  but  sin. 

How  I  could  speak  I  cannot  tell, 

How  I  could  dare  to  pray 
Seemed  wonderful ;  and  yet  my  heart 

To  Jesus  dared  to  say : — 

Shew  me  the  Father's  Face,  O  Lord, 
This  was  my  venturous  cry, 

And  close  before  me,  as  I  prayed, 
Methought  Some  One  passed  by. 


LIGHT   IN   DARKNESS.  I  "J  J 

And  yet  He  was  not  One  but  Three, 

Oh,  how  fatherly  He  seemed ! 
A  mercy  half  so  merciful 

I  never  could  have  dreamed. 

The  space  of  one  swift  lightning's  flash 

Was  the  Majesty  outspread  ; 
Then  the  angels'  songs  the  silence  broke, 

And  the  glorious  darkness  fled. 

Deep  in  Thine  own  immensity 

Thyself  Thou  hidest,  Lord  ! 
There  always  speaking  to  Thyself 

Thine  Uncreated  Word. 

Thy  Wisdom,  like  a  sea  on  fire, 

Is  one  with  Thee  in  bliss ; 
His  unborn  loveliness  is  Thine. 

Thine  unborn  glory  His. 

Thou  and  Thy  Word  perforce  must  breathe 

One  equal  Breath  of  love, 
A  Breath  that  is  being  ever  breathed, 

One  coeternal  Dove. 

Yet  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost 

Into  one  Father  run, 
A  Father  in  Their  Unity, 

A  Trinitv  in  One. 

1? 


fjS  DIVINE    FAVOURS. 

Father  !  all  we  that  toil  on  earth 
One  day  at  rest  shall  be  ; — 

Thou  art  our  haven  and  our  home, 
O  dearest  Trinity ! 


DIVINE   FAVOURS. 

Is  this  returning  life  that  thrills 
So  sensibly  in  all  my  veins  ? 
Can  this  be  heavenly  joy  that  fills 
My  soul  with  such  mysterious  pains  ? 

I  see  but  indistinctly  yet 

Forms  growing  like  to  what  I  knew ; 

One  sun  is  rising,  one  is  set, 

But  which  of  those  two  suns  is  true  ? 

Within  my  soul  there  hath  been  strife ; 
I  hear  retreating  voices  rave  ; 
This  stirring  in  me  must  be  life, 
But  life  on  which  side  of  the  grave  ? 

Blue  sky,  green  earth,  my  well-known  room  ! 

I  waken  up  to  all  the  past ; 

But  what  a  look  of  cheerless  gloom 

That  inward  light  o'er  all  hath  cast ! 

0  Lord  !  what  hast  Thou  done  to  me  ? 
What  marks  are  these  my  spirit  bears  ? 
Why  didst  Thou  come  so  frighteningly, 
Why  take  me,  Lord  I  so  unawares  ? 


DIVINE    FAVOURS.  1 79 

I  felt  Thy  touch  ;  self  died,— alas  ! 
Only  a  momentary  death ; 
Ah  me  !  how  quickly  Thou  didst  pass- 
Within  the  breathing  of  a  breath  ! 

No  revelation  did  unfold 
New  secrets  to  my  quickened  eye  ; 
No  vision  on  my  sight  unrolled 
Its  hieroglyphic  pageantry. 

I  feel  no  wish  to  do  great  things, 
Nor  is  my  weakness  fortified ; 
Only,  within  are  murmurings, 
Beginning  softly  to  subside. 

But  in  that  momentary  sleep 
One  work  within  me  hath  been  done ; 
For  somehow  I  have  sunk  more  deep, 
Farther  into  my  soul  have  gone. 

Thy  touch  hath  made  me  sensitive ; 
I  long  to  burrow  out  of  sight ; 
My  shame,  selfseen,  abhors  to  live, 
Humbled  by  such  excess  of  light. 

There  have  been  times  when  sense  of  sin 
Hath  laid  my  spirits  very  low  ; 
Yet  this  sharp  light  went  deeper  in ; 
I  never  yet  was  humbled  so. 


PABT  FOUE. 
miscellaneous. 


THE  CREATION  OF  THE  ANGELS. 

In  pulses  deep  of  threefold  Love, 
Self-hushed  and  self-possessed, 

The  mighty,  unbeginning  God 
Had  lived  in  silent  rest. 

With  His  own  greatness  all  alone 

The  sight  of  Self  had  been 
Beauty  of  beauties,  joy  of  joys, 

Before  His  eye  serene. 

He  lay  before  himself  and  gazed 

As  ravished  with  the  sight, 
Brooding  on  His  own  attributes 

With  dread  untold  delight. 

No  nes  were  on  His  bliss,  for  He 

Had  neither  end  nor  cause  ; 
For  His  own  glory  'twas  enough 

That  He  was  what  He  was. 


16  2      THE    CREATION  OF   THE   ANGELS. 

His  glory  was  full  grown  ;   His  light 
Had  owned  no  dawning  dim; 

His  love  did  not  outgrow  Himself, 
For  nought  could  grow  in  Him, 

He  stirred — and  yet  we  know  not  how 
Nor  wherefore  He  should  move ; 

In  our  poor  human  words,  it  was 
An  overflow  of  love. 

It  was  the  first  outspoken  word 
That  broke  that  peace  sublime, 

An  outflow  of  eternal  love 
Into  the  lap  of  time. 

He  stirred  ;  and  beauty  all  at  once 
Forth  from  His  Being  broke  ; 

Spirit  and  strength,  and  living  life, 
Created  things,  awoke. 

Order  and  multitude  and  light 

In  beauteous  showers  outstreamed ; 

And  realms  of  newly-fashioned  space 
With  radiant  angels  beamed. 

How  wonderful  is  life  in  heaven 

Amid  the  angelic  choirs, 
Where  uncreated  Love  has  crowned 

His  first  created  fires  ! 

But,  sec  !  new  marvels  gather  there  ! 
The  wisdom  of  the  Son 


THE    UNBELIEVING    WORLD.  1 83 

With  heaven's  completest  wonder  ends 
The  work  so  well  be 2:1m. 


THE  UNBELIEVING  WORLD. 

O  Lord  !  when  I  look  o'er  the  wide  spreading 
world, 

How  lovely  and  yet  how  unhappy  it  seems, 
How  full  of  realities,  pure  and  divine, 

Yet  how  bent  on  unworshipful  dreams  ! 

My  heart  swells  within  me.  with  thankfullest  joy 
For  the  faith  which  to  me  Thou  hast  given  ; 

For  in  all  Thine  amazing  abundance  of  gifts, 
Thou  hast  no  better  gift  short  of  heaven. 

There  was  darkness  in  Egypt  while  Israel  had 
sun, 
And  the  songs  in  the  corn  fields  of  Gessen 
were  gay,   ■ 
And  the  chosen  that  dwelt  'mid  the  heathen 
moved  on, 
Each    threading   the    gloom   with    his    own 
private  day. 

Ah  !  so  is  it  now  with  the  Church  of  Thy  choice  ; 

Fler  lands  lie  in  light  which  to  worldlings 

seems  dim ; 

And  each  child  of    that    Church,    who    must 

live  in  dark  realms, 

Has  a  sun  o'er  his  head  which  is  onlv  for  him. 


184  THE     UNBELIEVING    WORLD. 

Yet  it  grieves   me  too,   Lord  !    that  so  many 
should  wander, 
Should  see  nought  before  them  but  desolate 
night, 
That  men  should  be  walled  in  with  darkness 
around  them, 
When  within  and  without  there  is  nothing 
but  light. 

But  still  more  I  grieve  for  Thy  glory,  O  Lord ! 
That  the  world  should  be  only  an  Egypt  for 
Thee, 
That  the   bondsmen  of  error  should  boast  of 
their  chains, 
And  scoff  at  the  love   that  would  fain  set 
them  free. 

But  we  who  have  light,  we  must  make  our  light 
brighter, 
And  thus  show  our  love  to  Thee,  Lord  !  for 
Thy  gift; 
The  faith  Thou  hast  sent  us  our  love  can  make 
greater, 
And  almost  to  sight  our  believing  can  lift. 

Faith  is  sweetest  of  worships  to   Him  who  so 
loves 
His   unbearable   splendours  in  darkness  to 
hide  ; 


THE    UNBELIEVING    WORLD.  1 85 

And  to  trust  to  Thy  word,  dearest  Lord  !  is 
true  love, 
For  those   prayers   are  most  granted  which 
seem  most  denied. 

Oh  why  hast  Thou  made  then  faith's  field  all 
so  narrow. 
Nor  multiplied  objects  for  childlike  belief  ; 
For  faith,  though  it  is  such  a  beautiful  worship, 
Is  but  earth's    span   of  heaven,  too  fleeting 
and  brief. 

Thou  hast  dealt  better  measure  to  hope  than 
to  faith  : 
Hope  can  hope  for  no  more,  since  it  hopes, 
Lord  !  for  Thee  ; 
Nought  is  lacking  to  love  which  has  fastened 
on  God  ; 
It  is  love  lost  in  love  like  a  drop  in  the  sea. 

But  faith   throws   her  arms   around  all  Thou 
hast  told  her, 
And,  able   to  hold  as   much    more,  can  but 
grieve  : 
She  could  hold  Thy  grand  Self.  Lord  !  if  Thou 
wouldst  reveal  it. 
And  love   makes  her  long  to  have  more  to 
believe. 


1 86  THE    OLD    LABOURER. 


THE  OLD  LABOURER. 

What  end  cloth  he  fulfil  ? 

He  seems  without  a  will, 
Stupid,  unhelpful,  helpless,  age-worn  man  ! 

He  hath  let  the  years  pass  ; 

He  hath  toiled,  and  heard  Mass, 
Done  what  he  could,  and  now  does  what  he  can. 

And  this  forsooth  is  all ! 

A  plant  or  animal 
Hath  a  more  positive  work  to  do  than  he  : 

Along  his  daily  beat, 

Delighting  in  the  heat, 
He  crawls  in  sunshine  which  he  does  not  see. 

What  doth  God  get  from  him  ? 

His  very  mind  is  dim, 
Too  weak  to  love,  and  too  obtuse  to  fear. 

Is  there  glory  in  his  strife  ? 

Is  there  meaning  in  his  life  ? 
Can  God  hold  such  a  thing-like  person  dear  ? 

Peace  !  he  is  dying  now  ; 

No  light  is  on  his  brow ; 
He  makes  no  sign,  but  without  sign  departs. 

The  poor  die  often  so, — 

And  yet  they  long  to  go, 
To  take  to  God  their  over- weighted  hearts. 


THE    OLD    LABOURER.  T87 

Born  only  to  endure, 

The  patient  passive  poor 
Seem  useful  chiefly  by  their  multitude  ; 

For  they  are  men  who  keep 

Their  lives  secret  and  deep  ; 
Alas  !  the  poor  are  seldom  understood. 

This  labourer  that  is  gone 

Was  childless  and  alone, 
And  homeless  as  his  Saviour  was  before  him ; 

He  told  in  no  man's  ear 

His  longing,  love,  or  fear,  [him. 

Nor  what  he  thought  of  life  as  it  passed  o'er 

He  had  so  long  been  old, 

His  heart  was  close  and  cold  : 
He  had  no  love  to  take,  no  love  to  give  : 

Men  almost  wished  him  dead  ; 

'Twas  best  for  him,  they  said ; 
'Twas  such  a  weary  sight  to  see  him  live. 

He  walked  with  painful  stoop, 

As  if  life  made  him  droop, 
And  care  had  fastened  fetters  round  his  feet: 

He  saw  no  bright  blue  sky, 

Except  what  met  his  eve 
Reflected  from  the  rain-pools  in  the  street. 

To  whom  was  he  of  good  ? 
He  slept  and  he  took  food, 


155  THE    OLD    LABOURER. 

He  used  the  earth  and  air,  and  kindled  fire  : 

He  bore  to  take  relief, 

Less  as  a  risrht  than  srief ; — 
To  what  might  such  a  soul  as  his  aspire  ? 

His  inexpressive  eye 

Peered  round  him  vacantly, 
As  if  whate'er  he  did  he  would  be  chidden ; 

He  seemed  a  mere  growth  of  earth  ; 

Yet  even  he  had  mirth, 
As  the  great  angels  have,  untold  and  hidden. 

Alway  his  downcast  eye 

Was  laughing  silently, 
As  if  he  found  some  jubilee  in  thinking ; 

For  his  one  thought  was  God, 

In  that  one  thought  he  abode, 
For  ever  in  that  thought  more  deeply  sinking. 

Thus  did  he  live  his  life, 

A  kind  of  passive  strife, 
Upon  the  God  within  his  heart  relying; 

Men  left  him  all  alone, 

Because  he  was  unknown,  [ing. 

But  he  heard  the  angels  sing  when  he  was  dy- 

God  judges  by  a  light, 

Which  baffles  mortal  sight,  [won  : 

And  the  useless-seeming  man  the  crown  hath 

In  His  vast  world  above, 

A  world  of  broader  love, 
God  hath  some  grand  employment  for  His  son. 


MUSIC.  189 

MUSIC. 

fhat  music  breathes  all  through  my  spirit, 
As  the  breezes  blow  through  a  tree  ; 

And  my  soul  gives  light  as  it  quivers, 
Like  moons  on  a  tremulous  sea. 

New  passions  are  wakened  within  me, 
New  passions  that  have  not  a  name  ; 

Dim  truths  that  I  knew  but  as  phantoms 
Stand  up  clear  and  bright  in  the  flame. 

And  my  soul  is  possessed  with  yearnings 
Which  make  my  life  broaden  and  swell ; 

And  I  hear  strange  things  that  are  soundless, 
And  I  see  the  invisible. 

Oli  silence  that  clarion  in  mercy, — 

For  it  carries  my  soul  away  : 
And  it  whirls  my  thoughts  out  beyond  me, 

Like  the  leaves  on  an  autumn  day. 

O  exquisite  tyranny  !  silence, — 
My  soul  slips  from  under  my  hand, 

And  as  if  by  instinct  is  fleeing 
To  a  dread  unvisited  land. 

Is  it  sound,  or  fragrance,  or  vision  ? 

Vocal  light  wavering  down  from  above  ? 
Past  prayer  and  past  praise  I  am  floating 

Down  the  rapids  of  speechless  love. 


190  MUSIC. 

I  strove,  but  the  sweet  sounds  have  conquered : 

Within  me  the  Past  is  awake  ; 
The  Present  is  grandly  transfigured  ; 

The  Future  is  clear  as  day-break. 

Now  Past,  Present,  Future  have  mingled 

A  new  sort  of  Present  to  make  ; 
And  my  life  is  all  disembodied, 

Without  time,  without  space,  without  break. 

But  my  soul  seems  floating  for  ever 

In  an  orb  of  ravishing  sounds, 
Through  faint-falling  echoes  of  heavens 

'Mid  beautiful  earths  without  bounds. 

Now  sighing,  as  zephyrs  in  summer. 

The  concords  glide  in  like  a  stream, 
With  a  sound  that  is  almost  a  silence, 

Or  the  soundless  sounds  in  a  dream. 

Then  oft,  when  the  music  is  faintest, 
My  soul  has  a  storm  in  its  bowers, 

Like  the  thunder  among  the  mountains, 
Like  the  wind  in  the  abbey  towers. 

There  arc  sounds,  like  flakes  of  snow  falling 
In  their  silent  and  eddying  rings  ; 

We  tremble, — they  touch  us  so  lightly, 
Like  the  feathers  from  angels'  wings. 


MUSIC.  1 9 1 

There  are  pauses  of  marvellous  silence, 
That  are  full  of  significant  sound, 

Like  music  echoing  music 

Under  water  or  under  ground. 

That  clarion  again  !    through  what  valleys 

Of  deep  inward  life  did  it  roll, 
Ere  it  blew  that  astonishing  trumpet 

Right  down  in  the  caves  of  my  soul  ? 

My  mind  is  bewildered  with  echoes, — 
Not  all  from  the  sweet  sounds  without : 

But  spirits  are  answering  spirits 
In  a  beautiful  muffled  shout. 

Oh  cease  then,  wild  Horns  !   I  am  fainting ; 

If  ye  wail  so,  my  heart  will  break  ; 
Some  one  speaks  to  me  in  your  speaking 

In  a  language  I  cannot  speak. 

Though  the  sounds  ye  make  are  all  foreign, 
How  native,  how  household  they  are  ; 

The  tones  of  old  homes  mixed  with  heaven, 
The  dead  and  the  angels,  speak  there. 

Dear  voices  that  long  have  been  silenced, 
Come  clear  from  their  peaceable  land, 

Come  toned  with  unspeakable  sweeti 
From  the  Presence  in  which  they  stand. 


192  MUSIC. 

Or  is  music  the  inarticulate 

Speech  of  the  angels  on  earth  ? 
Or  the  voice  of  the  Undiscovered 


O  music  !  thou  surely  art  worship ; 

But  thou  art  not  like  praise  or  prayer ; 
And  words  make  better  thanksgiving 

Than  thy  sweet  melodies  are. 

There  is  in  thee  another  worship, 
An  outflow  of  something  divine  ; 

P^or  the  voice  of  adoring  silence, 
If  it  could  be  a  voice,  were  thine. 

Thou  art  fugitive  splendours  ma*de  vocal, 
As  they  glanced  from  that  shining  sea, 

Where  the  Vision  is  visible  music, 
Making  music  of  spirits  who  see. 

Thou,  Lord  !  art  the  Father  of  music  ; 

Sweet  sounds  are  a  whisper  from  Thee; 
Thou  hast  made  Thy  creation  all  anthems, 

Though  itsingeth  them  silently. 

But  I  guess  by  the  stir  of  this  music 
What  raptures  in  heaven  can  be, 

Where  the  sound  is  Thy  marvellous  stillness, 
And  the  music  is  light  out  of  Thee. 


THE    STARRY   SKIES. 

THE  STARRY  SKIES. 
The  starry  skies,  they  rest  my  soul, 

Its  chains  of  care  unbind, 
And  with  the  dew  of  cooling  thoughts 

Refresh  my  sultry  mind. 

And,  like  a  bird  amidst  the  boughs, 

I  rest,  and  sing,  and  rest, 
Among  those  bright  dissevered  worlds. 

As  safe  as  in  a  nest. 

And  oft  I  think  the  starry  sprays 
Swing  with  me  where  I  light, 

While  brighter  branches  lure  me  o'er 
New  gulfs  of  purple  night. 

Yes,  something  draws  me  upward  there 

As  morning  draws  the  lark; 
Only  my  spell,  whatever  it  is, 

Works  better  in  the  dark. 
It  is  as  if  a  home  was  there, 

To  which  my  soul  was  turning, 
A  home  not  seen,  but  nightly  proved 

By  a  mysterious  yearning. 

It  seems  as  if  no  actual  space 

Could  hold  it  in  its  bond  ; 
Thought  climbs  its  highest,  still  it  is 

Always  beyond,  bevond. 
13 


l93 


194  THE    STARRY    SKIES. 

Earth  never  feels  like  home,  though  fresh 

And  full  its  tide  of  mirth ; 
No  glorious  change  we  can  conceive 

Would  make  a  home  of  earth. 

But  God  alone  can  be  a  home  ; 

And  His  sweet  Vision  lies 
Somewhere  in  that  soft  gloom  concealed, 

Beyond  the  starry  skies. 

So,  as  if  waiting  for  a  voice, 

Nightly  I  gaze  and  sigh, 
While  the  stars  look  at  me  silently 

Out  of  their  silent  sky. 

How  have  I  erred  !  God  is  my  home, 

And  God  Himself  is  here  ; 
Why  have  I  looked  so  far  for  Him 

Who  is  nowhere  but  near  ? 

Oh  not  in  distant  starry  skies, 

In  vastness  not  abroad, 
But  everywhere  in  His  whole  Self 

Abides  the  whole  of  God. 

In  golden  presence  not  diffused, 

Not  in  vague  fields  of  bliss, 
But  whole  in  every  present  point 

The  Godhead  simply  is. 


THE    STARRY   SKIES.  19; 

Down  in  earth's  duskiest  vales,  where'er 

My  pilgrimage  may  be, 
Thou  Lord !  wilt  be  a  ready  home 

Always  at  hand  for  me. 

I  spake  :  but  God  was  nowhere  seen  ; 

Was  His  love  too  tired  to  wait  ? 
Ah  no  !  my  own  un simple  love 

Hath  often  made  me  late. 

How  often  things  already  won 

It  urges  me  to  win. 
How  often  makes  me  look  outside 

For  that  which  is  within  ! 

Our  souls  go  too  much  out  of  self 

Into  ways  dark  and  dim  : 
'Tis  rather  God  who  seeks  for  us, 

Than  we  who  seek  for  Him. 

Yet  surely  through  my  tears  I  saw 

God  softly  drawing  near  ; 
How  came  He  without  sight  or  sound 

So  soon  to  disappear  ? 

God  was  not  gone  :  but  He  so  longed 

His  sweetness  to  impart, 
He  too  was  seeking  for  a  home, 

And  found  it  in  my  heart. 


196  THE    SORROWFUL    WORLD. 

Twice  had  I  erred :  a  distant  God 
Was  what  I  could  not  bear ; 

Sorrows  and  cares  were  at  my  side : 
I  longed  to  have  Him  there. 

But  God  is  never  so  far  off 

As  even  to  be  near ; 
He  is  within  :  our  spirit  is 

The  home  he  holds  most  dear. 

To  think  of  Him  as  by  our  side 

Is  almost  as  untrue, 
As  to  remove  His  throne  beyond 

Those  skies  of  starry  blue. 

So  all  the  while  I  thought  myself 
Homeless,  forlorn,  and  weary, 

Missing  my  joy,  I  walked  the  earth 
Myself  God's  sanctuary. 


THE  SORROWFUL  WORLD. 

I  heard  the  wild  beasts  in  the  woods  complain  ; 
Some  slept,  while  others  wakened  to  sustain 
Through  night  and  day  the   sad   monotonous 

round, 
Half  savage  and  half  pitiful  the  sound. 


THE    SORROWFUL     WORLD.  I97 

The  outcry  rose  to  God  through  all  the  air. 
The  worship  of  distress,  an  animal  prayer, 
Loud  vehement  pleadings,  not  unlike  to  those 
Job  uttered  in  his  agony  of  woes. 

The  very  pauses,  when  they  came,  were  rife 
With  sickening  sounds  of  too  successful  strife. 
As.  when  the  clash  cf  battle  dies  away, 
The  groans  of  night   succeed   the  shrieks    of 
day. 

Man's  scent  the  untamed  creatures  scarce  can 

bear. 
As  if  his  tainted  blood  denied  the  air; 
In  the  vast  woods  they  fret  as  in  a  cage, 
Or  fly  in  fear,  or  gnash  their  teeth  with  rage. 

The  beasts  of  burden  linger  on  their  way. 
Like    slaves    who    will    not  speak    when    thev 

obey ; 
Their  faces,  when  their  looks  to  us  they  raise, 
With  something  of  reproachful  patience  gaze. 

All  creatures  round  us  seem  to  disapprove  ; 
Their  eyes  discomfort  us  with  lack  of  love  : 
Our  very  rights,  with  signs  like  these  alloyed, 
Not  without  sad  misgivings  are  enjoved. 

Earth  seems  to  make  a  sound  in  places  lone. 
Sleeps  through  the  day,  but  wakes  at  night  to 
moan. 


198  THE    SORROWFUL     WORLD. 

Shunning  our  confidence,  as  if  we  were 
A  guilty  burden  it  could  hardly  bear. 

The  winds  can  never  sing  Lut  they  must  wail; 
Waters  lift  up  sad  voices  in  the  vale  ; 
One  mountain-hollow  to  another  calls 
With  broken  cries  of  plaining  waterfalls. 

Silence  itself  is  but  a  heaviness, 
As  if  the  earth  were  fainting  in  distress, 
Like  one  who  wakes  at  night  in  panic  fears. 
And  nought  but  his  own  beating  pulses  hears. 

Inanimate  things  can  rise  into  despair; 
And,  when  the  thunders  bellow  in  the  air. 
Amid  the  mountains,  earth  sends  forth  a  cry, 
Like  dying  monsters  in  their  agony. 

The  sea,  unmated  creature,  tired  and  lone, 
Makes  on  its  desolate  sands  eternal  moan : 
Lakes  on  the  calmest  days  are  ever  throbbing 
Upon  their   pebbly  shores  with  petulant   sob- 
bing. 

O'er  the  white  waste,  cold  grimly  overawes 
And  hushes  life  beneath  its  merciless  laws; 
Invisible  heat  drops  down  from  tropic  skies, 
And  o'er  the  land,  like  an  oppression,  lies. 


THE    SORROWFUL     WORLD.  1 99 

The    clouds    in    heaven   their   placid   motions 

borrow 
From  the  funereal  tread  of  men  in  sorrow; 
Or,  when  they  scud  across  the  stormy  day, 
Mimic  the  flight  of  hosts  in  disarray. 

Mostly  men's  many-featured  faces  wear 
Looks  of  fixed  gloom,  or  else  of  restless  care  ; 
The  very  babes,  that  in  their  cradles  lie, 
Out  of  the  depths  of  unknown  troubles  cry. 

Labor  itself  is  but  a  sorrowful  song, 
The  protest  of  the  weak  against  the  strong  ; 
Over  rough  waters,  and  in  obstinate  fields, 
And  from  dank  mines,  the  same  sad  sound  it 
yields. 

O  God  !  the  fountain  of  perennial  gladness  ! 
Thy  whole  creation  overflows  with  sadness  ; 
Sights,  sounds,  are  full  of  sorrow  and  alarm  ; 
Even  sweet  scents  have  but  a  pensive  charm. 

Doth    earth    send    nothing    up    to    Thee    but 

moans  ? 
Father  !  canst  Thou  find  melody  in  groans  ? 
Oh  can  it  be,  that  Thou,  the  God  of  bliss, 
Canst  feed  Thy  glory  on  a  world  like  this  ? 

All  me  !  that    sin    should    have    such    chemic 

power 
To  turn  to  dross  the  gold  of  nature's  dower, 


200  AUTUMN. 

And  straightway,  of  its  single  self,  unbind 
The  eternal  vision  of  Thy  jubilant  Mind  ! 

Alas  !  of  all  this  sorrow  there  is  need  ; 
For  us  earth  weeps,  for  us  the  creatures  bleed 
Thou  art  content,  if  all  this  woe  imparts 
The  sense  of  exile  to  repentant  hearts. 

Yes  !  it  is  well  for  us  :  from  these  alarms, 
Like  children  scared,  we  fly  into  Thine  arms  ; 
And  pressing  sorrows  put  our  pride  to  rout 
With  a  swift  faith  which  has  not  time  to  doubt. 

We  cannot   herd   in   peace  with  wild   beasts 

rude  ; 
We  dare  not  live  in  nature's  solitude ; 
In  how  few  eyes  of  men  can  we  behold 
Enough  of  love  to  make  us  calm  and  bold  ? 

Oh  it  is  well  for  us  :  with  angry  glance 
Life  glares  at  us,  or  looks  at  us  askance : 
Seek  where  we  will,— Father  !  we  see  it  now,— 
None  love  us,  trust  us,  welcome  us,  but  Thou 


AUTUMN. 

Autumn  once  more  begins  to  teach  ; 
Sere  leaves  their  annual  sermon  preach 
And  with  the  southward-slipping  sun 
Another  stage  of  life  is  done. 


AUTUMN.  201 

The  day  is  of  a  paler  hue, 

The  night  is  of  a  darker  blue, 

Just  as  it  was  a  year  ago  ; 

For  time  runs  fast,  but  grace  is  slow  ! 

Life  glides  away  in  many  a  bend, 

In  chapters  which  begin  and  end  ; 

Each  has  its  trial,  each  its  grace, 

Each  in  life's  whole  its  proper  place. 

Life  has  its  joinings  and  its  breaks, 

But  each  transition  swiftly  takes 

Us  nearer  to  or  further  from 

The  threshold  of  our  heavenly  home. 

Years  pass  away  ;  new  crosses  come  ; 

Past  sorrow  is  a  sort  of  home, 

An  exile's  home,  and  only  lent 

For  needful  rest  in  banishment. 

It  narrows  life,  and  walls  it  in, 

And  shuts  the  door  on  many  a  sin  ; 

'Tis  almost  like  a  calm  fireside, 

Where  humbled  hearts  are  fain  to  bide. 

Thou  comest,  Autumn,  to  unlade 

Thy  wealthy  freight  of  summer  shade, 

Still  sorrowful  as  in  past  years, 

Yet  mild  and  sunny  in  thy  tears. 

Ripening  and  hardening  all  thy  growth 

Of  solid  wood,  yet  nothing  loth 

To  waste  upon  the  frolic  breeze 

Thy  leaves,  like  flights  of  golden  bees. 


202  AUTUMN. 

Have  I  laid  by  from  summer  hours 

Ripe  fruits  as  well  as  leaves  and  flowers? 

Hath  my  past  year  a  growth  to  harden, 

As  well  as  fewer  sins  to  pardon  ? 

Is  God  in  all  things  more  and  more 

A  king  within  me  than  before  ? 

I  know  not,  yet  one  change  hath  come,— 

The  world  feels  less  and  less  a  home. 

My  soul  appears,  as  I  get  old. 
More  prompt  in  act,  in  prayer  less  cold; 
Crosses,  from  use,  more  lightly  press; 
Mirth  is  more  purely  weariness  ; 
With  less  to  quarrel  with  in  life, 
I  grow  less    patient  with  its  strife  ; 
I  wish  more  simply  Lord  to  be, 
Ailing  or  well,  always  with  Thee  ! 


PART  FIFTH, 
dlje  £ast  filings. 


THE  MEMORY  OF  THE  DEAD, 

Oh  it  is  sweet  to  think. 

Of  those  that  are  departed, 
While  murmured  Aves  sink 

To  silence  tender-hearted, 
While  tears  that  have  no  pain 

Ar  •  tranquilly  distilling, 
And  the  dead  live  again 

In  hearts  that  love  is  filling. 


204    THE    MEMORY   OF    THE    DEAD. 

Yet  not  as  in  the  days 

Of  earthly  ties  we  love  them; 
For  they  are  touched  with  rays 

From  light  that  is  above  them : 
Another  sweetness  shines 

Around  their  well-known  features  ; 
God  with  His  glory  signs 

His  dearly  ransomed  creatures. 

Yes,  they  are  more  our  own, 

Since  now  they  are  God's  only ; 
And  each  one  that  has  gone 

Has  left  our  heart  less  lonely. 
He  mourns  not  seasons  fled, 

Who  now  in  Him  possesses 
Treasures  of  many  dead 

In  their  dear  Lord's  caresses. 

Dear  dead  !  they  have  become 

Like  guardian  angels  to  us  ; 
And  distant  heaven  like  home, 

Through  them  begins  to  woo  us  ; 
Love,  that  was  earthly,  wings 

Its  flight  to  holier  places  ; 
The  dead  are  sacred  things 

That  multiply  our  graces. 

They  whom  wc  loved  on  earth 
Attract  us  now  to  heaven ; 


THE    ETERNAL     YEARS.  20£ 


Who  shared  our  grief  and  mirth 

Back  to  us  now  are  given. 
They  move  with  noiseless  foot 

Gravely  and  sweetly  round  us, 
And  their  soft  touch  hath  cut 

Full  many  a  chain  that  bound  us. 

O  dearest  dead  !  to  heaven 

With  grudging  sighs  we  gave  you, 
To  Him— be  doubts  forgiven  ! 

Who  took  you  there  to  save  you  : — 
Now  get  us  grace  to  love 

Your  memories  yet  more  kindly, 
Pine  for  our  homes  above, 

And  trust  to  God  more  blindly. 


THE  ETERNAL  YEARS. 

How  shalt  thou  bear  the  Cross  that  now 

So  dread  a  weight  appears  ? 
Keep  quietly  to  God,  and  think 

Upon  the  Eternal  Years. 

Austerity  is  little  help, 

Although  it  somewhat  cheers  ; 
Thine  oil  of  gladness  is  the  thought 

Of  the  Eternal  Years. 


00  THE    ETERNAL    YEARS. 

Set  hours  and  written  rule  are  good, 
Long  prayer  can  lay  our  fears : 

But  it  is  better  calm  for  thee 
To  count  the  Eternal  Years. 

Rites  are  as  balm  unto  the  eyes, 

God's  word  unto  the  ears  : 
But  He  will  have  thee  rather  brood 

Upon  the  Eternal  Years. 

Full  many  things  are  good  for  souls 
In  proper  times  and  spheres; 

Thy  present  good  is  in  the  thought 
Of  the  Eternal  Years. 

Thy  self-upbraiding  is  a  snare, 
Though  meekness  it  appears  ; 

More  humbling  is  it  far  for  thee, 
To  face  the  Eternal  Years. 

Brave  quiet  is  the  thing  for  thee, 
Chiding  thy  scrupulous  fears  ; 

Learn  to  be  real,  from  the  thought 
Of  the  Eternal  Years. 

Bear  gently,  suffer  like  a  child, 

Nor  be  ashamed  of  tears  ; 
Kiss  the  sweet  Cross,  and  in  thy  heart 

Sing  of  the  Eternal  Years. 


THE    ETERNAL     YEARS.  207 

Thy  Cross  is  quite  enough  for  thee, 

Though  little  it  appears  ; 
For  there  is  hid  in  it  the  weight 

Of  the  Eternal  Years. 

And  knowst  thou  not  how  bitterness 

An  ailing  spirit  cheers  ? 
Thy  medicine  is  the  strengthening  thought 

Of  the  Eternal  Years. 

One  Cross  can  sanctify  a  soul ; 

Late  saints  and  ancient  seers 
Were  what  they  were,  because  they  mused 

Upon  the  Eternal  Years. 

Pass  not  from  flower  to  pretty  flower; 

Time  flies,  and  judgment  nears  ; 
Go  !  make  thy  honey  from  the  thought 

Of  the  Eternal  Years. 

Death  will  have  rainbows  round  it,  seen 
Through  calm  contrition's  tears, 

If  tranquil  hope  but  trims  her  lamp 
At  the  Eternal  Years. 

Keep  unconstraimdly  in  this  thought, 
Thy  loves,  hopes,  smiles,  and  tears ; 

Such  prison-house  thine  heart  will  make 
Free  of  the  Eternal  Years. 


2  08  AFTER    A     DEATH. 

A  single  practice  long  sustained 

A  soul  to  God  endears  : 
This  must  be  thine — to  weigh  the  thought 

Of  the  Eternal  Years. 

He  practises  all  virtue  well, 

Who  his  own  Cross  reveres, 
And  lives  in  the  familiar  thought 

Of  the  Eternal  Years. 


AFTER  A  DEATH. 

The  grief  that  was  delayed  so  long, 

O  Lord  !  hath  come  at  last ; 
Blest  be  Thy  Name  for  present  pain, 

And  for  the  weary  past ! 

Yet,  Father  !   I  have  looked  so  long 

Upon  the  coming  grief, 
That  what  should  grieve  my  heart  the  most 

Seems  almost  like  relief. 

Alas !  then,  did  I  love  the  dead 

As  well  as  he  loved  me  ? 
Or  have  I  sought  myself  alone 

Rather  than  him,  or  Thee  ? 

To  fear  is  harder  than  to  weep, 
To  watch  than  to  endure ; 


AFTER    A     DEATH. 

The  hardest  of  all  griefs  to  bear 
Is  a  grief  that  is  not  sure. 

As  on  a  watchtower  did  I  stand, 
Like  one  that  looks  in  fear, 

And  sees  an  overwhelming  host 
O'er  hill  and  dale  draw  near. 

The  bitterness  each  day  brought  forth 
Was  more  than  I  could  bear, 

And  hope's  uncertainty  was  worse 
Than  positive  despair. 

I  grew  more  unprepared  for  grief 
Which  had  so  long  been  stayed ; 
The  blow  seemed  more  impossible 
The  more  it  was  delayed. 

Yes !  the  most  sudden  of  our  griefs 
Are  those  which  travel  slow ; 

The  longer  warning  that  it  gives 
The  deeper  is  the  woe. 

To  look  a  sorrow  in  the  face 

False  magnitude  imparts ; 
All  sorrows  look  immensely  large 

Unto  our  little  hearts. 

But  to  look  long  upon  a  grief, 
Which  is  so  long  in  sight, 
14 


209 


2IO  AFTER    A     DEATH. 


Unmans  a  heart  more  terribly 
Than  a  sudden  death  at  night. 

A  swift  and  unexpected  blow, 

If  hard  to  bear,  is  brief ; 
But  oh !  it  is  less  sudden  far 

Than  a  quiet  creeping  grief. 

Least  griefs  are  more  than  we  can  bear. 

Each  worse  than  those  before ; 
Our  own  griefs  always  greater  griefs 

Than  those  our  fathers  bore. 

The  griefs  we  have  to  bear  alone, 
The  griefs  that  we  can  share, 

Our  single  griefs,  our  crowded  griefs,— 
Which  are  the  worst  to  bear  ?     ■ 

Yet  all  are  less  than  our  deserts ; 

Within  our  grace  they  lie  ; 
The  sorrows  we  exaggerate 

We  cannot  sanctify. 

Dear  Lord  !  in  all  our  loneliest  pains 
Thou  hast  the  largest  share, 

And  that  which  is  unbearable 
'Tis  Thine,  not  ours,  to  bear. 

How  merciful  Thine  anger  is, 
How  tender  it  can  be, 


THE    PILGRIMS    OF    THE    WIGHT.      211 

How  wonderful  all  sorrows  are 
Which  come  direct  from  Thee ! 

Years  fly,  O  Lord  !  and  every  year 

More  desolate  I  grow ; 
My  world  of  friends  thins  round  me  fast, 

Love  after  love  lies  low. 

There  are  fresh  gaps  around  the  hearth, 

Old  places  left  unfilled, 
And  young  lives  quenched  before  the  old, 

And  the  love  of  old  hearts  chilled : 

Dear  voices  and  dear  faces  missed, 
Sweet  households  overthrown, 

And  what  is  left  more  sad  to  see 
Than  the  sight  of  what  has  gone. 

All  this  is  to  be  sanctified, 

This  rupture  with  the  past; 
For  thus  we  die  before  our  deaths, 

And  so  die  well  at  last. 


THE  PILGRIMS  OF  THE  NIGHT. 

Hark  !  hark !  my  soul !  angelic  songs  are  swell- 
ing 
O'er  earth's  green  fields  and  ocean's  wave- 
beat  shore ; 


212       THE    PILGRIMS    OF    THE    NIGHT. 

How  sweet  the  truth  those  blessed  strains  are 
telling 
Of  that  new  life  when  sin  shall  be  no  more  ! 

Chorus \ 

Angels  of  Jesus, 

Angels  of  light, 
Singing  to  welcome 

The  pilgrims  of  the  night ! 

Darker  than  night  life's  shadows  fall  around 

us, 

And,  like  benighted  men,  we  miss  our  mark; 

God  hides   Himself,  and  grace  hath  scarcely 

found  us, 

Ere  death  finds  out  his  victims  in  the  dark. 

Onward  we  go,  for  still  we  hear  them  singing, 
Come,    weary    souls  !    for   Jesus   bids   you 
come  ! 
And  through  the  dark,  its  echoes  sweetly  ring- 
ing, 
The  music  of  the  Gospel  leads  us  home. 

Far,  far  away,  like  bells  at  evening  pealing, 
The  voice  of  Jesus  sounds  o'er  land  and  sea, 

And  laden  souls,  by  thousands  meekly  steal- 
ing, 
Kind  Shepherd !  turn  their  weary  steps  to 

Thee. 


THE    PILGRIMS    OF    THE    NIGHT.      213 

Rest  comes  at  length  ;  though  life  be  long  and 
dreary, 
The  day  must  dawn,  and  darksome  night  be 
past; 
All  journeys  end  in  welcomes  to  the  weary, 
And  heaven,  the  heart's  true  home,  will  come 
at  last. 

Cheer  up,  my  soul !  faith's   moonbeams  softly 
glisten 
Upon  the  breast  of  life's  most  troubled  sea ; 
And  it  will  cheer  thy  drooping  heart  to  listen 
To  those  brave  songs   which  angels  mean 
for  thee. 

Angels  !  sing  on,  your  faithful  watches  keep- 
ing, 
Sing  us  sweet  fragments  of  the  songs  above  ; 
While  we  toil  on,  and  soothe  ourselves  with 
weeping, 
Till  life's  long  night  shall  break  in  endless 
love. 

Chorus. 

Angels  of  Jesus, 


The  pilgrims  of  the  night ! 


214  WISHES    ABOUT   DEATH. 


WISHES  ABOUT  DEATH. 

I  wish  to  have  no  wishes  left, 

But  to  leave  all  to  Thee ; 
And  yet  I  wish  that  Thou  shouldst  will 

Things  that  I  wish  should  be. 

And  these  two  wills  I  feel  within, 
When  on  my  death  I  muse : 

But,  Lord  !  I  have  a  death  to  die, 
And  not  a  death  to  choose. 

Why  should  I  choose  ?  for  in  Thy  love 

Most  surely  I  descry 
A  gentler  death  than  I  myself 

Should  dare  to  ask  to  die. 


But  Thou  wilt  not  disdain  to  hear 
What  those  few  wishes  are, 

Which  I  abandon  to  Thy  love, 
And  to  Thy  wiser  care. 

Triumphant  death  I  would  not  ask, 
Rather  would  deprecate  ; 

For  dying  souls  deceive  themselves 
Soonest  when  most  elate. 


WISHES    ABOUT   DEATH.  2l5 

All  graces  I  would  crave  to  have 

Calmly  absorbed  in  one, — 
A  perfect  sorrow  for  my  sins, 

And  duties  left  undone. 

I  would  the  light  of  reason.  Lord  ! 

Up  to  the  last  might  shine, 
That  my  own  hands  might  hold  my  soul 

Until  it  passed  to  Thine. 

And  I  would  pass  in  silence,  Lord  ! 

No  brave  words  on  my  lips, 
Lest  pride  should  cloud  my  soul,  and  I 

Should  die  in  the  eclipse. 

But  when,  and  where,  and  by  what  pain,— 

All  this  is  one  to  me  : 
I  only  long  for  such  a  death 

As  most  shall  honour  Thee. 

Long  life  dismays  me,  by  the  sense 
Of  my  own  weakness  scared  : 

And  by  Thy  grace  a  sudden  death 
Need  not  be  unprepared. 

One  wish  is  hard  to  be  unwished, — 

That  I  at  last  might  die 
Of  grief  for  having  wronged  with  sin 

Thy  spotless  Majesty, 


2l6  THE    PATHS    OF   DEATH. 

THE  PATHS  OF  DEATH. 

How  pleasant  are  thy  paths,  O  Death  ! 

Like  the  bright  slanting  west, 
Thou  leadest  down  into  the  glow 
Where  all  those  heaven-bound  sunsets  go, 

Ever  from  toil  to  rest. 
How  pleasant  are  thy  paths,  O  Death! 

Back  to  our  own  dear  dead, 
Into  that  land  which  hides  in  tombs 
The  better  part  of  our  old  homes  ; 

'Tis  there  thou  mak'st  our  bed. 

How  pleasant  are  thy  paths,  O  Death ! 

Thither  where  sorrows  cease, 
To  a  new  life,  to  an  old  past, 
Softly  and  silently  we  haste, 

Into  a  land  of  peace. 
How  pleasant  are  thy  paths,  O  Death  ! 

Thy  new  restores  our  lost; 
There  are  voices  of  the  new  times 
With  the  ringing  of  the  old  chimes 

Blent  sweetly  on  thy  coast. 
How  pleasant  are  thy  paths,  O  Death! 

One  faint  for  want  of  breath,— 
And  above  thy  promise  thou  hast  given: 
All,  we  find  more  than  all  in  heaven, 

O  thou  truth-speaking  Death  ! 


THE    PATHS    OF    DEATH.  21 J 

How  pleasant  are  thy  paths,  O  Death  ! 

E'en  children  after  play 
Lie  down,  without  the  least  alarm, 
And  sleep,  in  thy  maternal  arm, 

Their  little  life  away. 

How  pleasant  are  thy  paths,  O  Death  .' 

E'en  grown-up  men  secure 
Better  manhood,  by  a  brave  leap 
Through  the  chill  mist  of  thy  thin  sleep, — 

Manhood  that  will  endure. 

How  pleasant  are  thy  paths,  O  Death ! 

The  old,  the  very  old, 
Smile  when  their  slumberous  eye  grows 

dim, 
Smile  when  they  feel  thee  touch  each  limb, 

Their  age  was  not  less  cold. 

How  pleasant  are  thy  paths,  O  Death! 

Ever  from  pain  to  ease ; 
Patience,  that  hath  held  on  for  years. 
Never  unlearns  her  humble  fears 

Of  terrible  disease. 

How  pleasant  are  thy  paths,  O  Death ! 

From  sin  to  pleasing  God  : 
For  the  pardoned  in  thy  land  are  bright 
As  innocence  in  robe  of  white, 

And  walk  on  the  same  road. 


2l8  THE    LENGTH    OF   DEATH. 


How  pleasant  are  thy  paths,  O  Death ! 

Straight  to  our  Father's  Home  ; 
All  loss  were  gain  that  gained  us  this, 
The  sight  of  God,  that  single  bliss 

Of  the  grand  world  to  come. 

How  pleasant  are  thy  paths,  O  Death  ! 

Ever  from  toil  to  rest, — 
Where  a  rim  of  sea-like  splendour  runs, 
Where  the  days  bury  their  golden  suns, 

In  the  dear  hopeful  west ! 


THE  LENGTH  OF  DEATH. 

Sweet  Saviour !  take  me  by  the  hand, 
And  lead  me  through  the  gloom ; 

Oh,  it  seems  far  to  the  Other  Land, 
And  dark  in  the  silent  tomb ! 

I  thought  it  was  less  hard  to  die, 

A  straighter  road  to  Thee, 
With  at  least  a  twilight  in  the  sky, 

And  one  narrow  arm  of  sea. 

Saviour !  what  means  tins  breadth  of  death, 

This  space  before  me  lying, 
These  deeps  where  life  so  lingereth, 

This  difficulty  of  dying  ? 


THE    LENGTH    OF   DEATH.  2  1 9 

So  many  turns,  abrupt  and  rude, 

Such  ever-shifting  grounds, 
Such  a  strangely-peopled  solitude, 

Such  strangely  silent  sounds  ? 

Another  hour  !  What  change  of  pain 

In  this  last  act  doth  lie  ! 
Surely  to  live  life  o'er  again 

Were  less  prolix  than  to  die. 

How  carefully  Thou  walkest,  Lord! 

Canst  Thou  have  cause  to  fear  ? 
Who  is  that  spirit  with  the  sword? 

Art  Thou  not  Master  here  ? 

Whom  are  we  trying  to  avoid  ? 

From  whom,  Lord  !  must  we  hide  ? 
Oh,  can  the  dying  be  decoyed, 

With  his  Saviour  by  his  side  ? 

Deeper!— Dark!  Dark!  But  yet  I  follow; 

Tighten,  dear  Lord  !  Thy  clasp  ! 
How  suddenly  earth  seems  to  hollow, 

There  is  nothing  left  to  grasp  ! 

I  cannot  feel  Thee  :  art  Thou  near  ? 

It  is  all  too  dark  to  see: 
But  let  me  feel  Thee,  Saviour  dear ! 

I  can  go  on  with  Thee. 


2  20  THE     LENGTH    OF   DEATH. 

What  speed !  How  icy-smooth  these  stones  ! 

Oh,  might  we  make  less  haste  ? 
How  the  caves  echo  back  my  moans 

From  some  invisible  waste  ! 

May  we  not  rest,  dear  Help  ?  Oh,  no, 

Not  on  a  road  so  steep  ! 
Sweet  Saviour  !   Have  we  far  to  go  ? 

Ah,  how  I  long  for  sleep ! 

Loose  sand— and  all  things  sinking!  Hark, 

The  murmur  of  a  sea ! 
Saviour!  it  is  intensely  dark; 

Is  it  near  eternity? 

Can  I  fall  from  Thee  even  now  ? 

Both  hands,  dear  Lord!  both  hands! 
Why  dost  thou  lie  so  deep,  so  low, 

Thou  shore  of  the  Happy  Lands  ? 

Ah !  death  is  very,  very  wide, 

A  land  terrible  and  dry  : 
If  Thou,  sweet  Saviour  !  hadst  not  died, 

Who  would  have  dared  to  die  ? 

Another  fall  !-Surely  we  steal 

On  towards  eternity  :— 
Lord!  Is  this  death  ?— I  only  feel 

Down  in  some  sea  with  Thee. 


THE    HOUSE    OF   MOURXIXG. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  MOURNING. 

Gloom  gathered  round  us  every  hour 
In  that  house  of  awful  sorrow  ; 

Each  day  lay  darker  and  more  dark 
In  the  shadow  of  its  morrow. 

And  yet  no  cloud  that  came  passed  on, 

No  yesterdays  went  by ; 
'Twas  a  storm  that  gathers  without  wind, 

Until  it  chokes  the  sky. 

Time  hungered  for  some  dreadful  change, 

And  yet  grew  sick  with  fear, 
Impatient  at  the  slow  approach 

Of  that  which  was  too  near. 

But  we  never  named  what  we  most  feared  ; 

It  was  only  understood  ; 
And  we  lived  on  an  unspoken  faith 

That  somehow  God  was  good. 

Yes  !  God  was  good  :  on  that  one  thought 
The  whole  day  we  were  leaning  : 

Vet  we  dared  not  put  it  into  words, 
Lest  it  should  lose  its  meaning. 

Of  many  things,  of  many  wants 
We  had  to  be  reminded  : 


222  THE    HOUSE    OE   MOURNING. 

We  felt  our  way  about  the  house 
Like  men  that  had  been  blinded. 

We  scarce  breathed  anything  but  grief  : 

We  almost  held  our  breath  : 
We  were  inwardly  unmanned  and  numbed 

With  the  looking  out  for  death. 

Each  told  to  each  what  each  well  knew, 

Each  told  it  o'er  and  o'er : 
Questions  we  asked  which  we  ourselves 
~Had  answered  just  before. 

From  its  intensity  of  aim 

Our  own  life  aimless  seemed : 
The  very  stern  reality 

Made  us  almost  think  we  dreamed. 

The  days  could  somehow  drag  themselves, 

Like  wounded  worms  along : 
But  I  know  not  how  we  lived  those  nights, 

Save  that  God  made  us  strong. 
And  somehow  all  things  turned  to  fears ; 

And  foolish  things  became 
Fountains  of  unrefreshing  tears 

Which  burned  the  eyes  like  flame. 

Oh  what  a  life  it  was,  a  life 
Of  such  entangled  woe, 

Like  the  panic  of  a  shipwrecked  crew- 
Only  this  was  so  slow  :— 


THE    HOUSE    OF   MOURXIXG.  2  23 

Entangled  with  minute  details, 

Needful,  but  out  of  season, 
Vet  a  woe  of  such  simplicity 

As  almost  troubled  reason. 

God  shut  us  up  there  seven  long  weeks, 

As  in  some  unworldly  ark, — 
And  we  learned  what  He  had  meant  us  learn,— 

To  live  and  to  see  in  the  dark. 

Darkness  is  easier  far  to  bear 

Than  that  unrestful  gloom, 
Where  the  light  snows  in,  and  vaguely  haunts 

The  shapes  and  the  things  in  the  room. 

One  of  those  darknesses  was  this, 

In  which  God  loves  to  dwell, 
One  of  those  restful  silences 

In  which  He  is  audible. 

Slowly  light  came,  the  thinnest  dawn, 

Not  sunshine  to  our  night, 
A  new,  more  spiritual  tiling, 

An  advent  of  pure  light : 

Perhaps  not  light ;  rather  the  soul 

Which  just  then  came  to  see, 
And  saw  through  its  world-darkened  life, 

And  saw  eternity. 


2  24  THE    HOUSE    OF   MOURNING. 

0  God  !  it  was  a  time  divine, 
Rich  epoch  of  calm  grace, 

A  pressing  of  our  hearts  to  Thine 
In  mystical  embrace. 

The  work  of  years  was  done  in  days, 
Fights  won,  and  trophies  given  : 

For  sorrow  is  the  atmosphere 
Which  ripens  hearts  for  heaven. 

1  saw  dear  souls  with  seemliest  haste 
Array  themselves  in  light, 

And  weave  themselves  angelic  robes 
Out  of  the  utter  night. 

Eternal  thoughts  in  simplest  words 
Fell  meekly  from  their  tongue, 

While  the  fragrance  of  eternity 
To  their  silent  presence  clung. 

For  monthlike  days,  for  yearlike  nights, 

I  saw  all  this  about  me  : 
It  should  have  been  my  work ;  but  God 

Had  to  do  the  work  without  me. 

I  only  saw  how  I  had  missed 
A  thousand  things  from  blindness, 

How  all  that  I  had  done  appeared 
Scarce  better  than  unkindness. 


THE    VIOLENCE    OF   GRIEF. 

How  that  to  comfort  those  that  mourn 
Is  a  thing  for  saints  to  try ; 

Yet  haply  God  might  have  clone  less, 
Had  a  saint  been  there,  not  I. 

Alas !  we  have  so  little  grace, 

With  love  so  little  burn, 
That  the  hardest  of  our  works  for  God 

Is  to  comfort  those  who  mourn. 


THE  VIOLENCE  OF  GRIEF. 

O  merciful  Father  the  blow  that  we  feared, 
Though  for  long  it  hath  threatened  and  slowly 

hath  neared, 
Hath  come  all  at  once,  hath  too  suddenly  come, 
And  laid  waste  the  fair  garden  that  once  was 

our  home. 

We   had  thought  to  have   borne  it  far  better 

than  this, 
Nor  have  grudged  to  Thy  will  our  poor  tribute 

of  bliss ; 
In  our  minds  we  had  looked  in  the  face  of  this 

woe, 
And  had  fixed  how  to  kneel  to  encounter  the 
blow. 

*5 


226  THE    VIOLENCE    OF   GRIEF, 

But  it  seems  as  if  sorrow  did  more  than  make 

haste, 
And  had  leaped  from  the  clouds  down  upon 

us  at  last : 
And  the  grief  most  surprises,  looks  most  like 

a  wrong, 
Because   we  have  looked  for  its   coming  so 

long. 

Nay,  we  fain  would  believe  that  the  blow  had 
not  come, 

That  it  was  but  a  dream,  this  dumb,  desolate 
home, 

That  the  eyes  were  not  closed,  could  not  pos- 
sibly close, 

In  the  light  of  whose  love  was  our  only  re- 
pose. 

All  grief  has  its  limits,  all  chastenings  their 

pause ; 
Thy  love  and  our  weakness  are  sorrow's  two 

laws  ; 
No  burdens  of  Thine  are  too  great  to  be  borne, 
Didst  Thou  know  how  this  sorrow  would  leave 

us  forlorn  ? 

We  had  said  we  were  ready,  whatever  should 
chance ; 

Of  our  hearts'  preparations  we  made  a  ro- 
mance : 


THE    VIOLENCE    OF   GRIEF.  227 

And  we  bade  Thee  sincerely  to  strike  at  Thy 

will ; 
Thou  hast  struck,  but  how  far  are  our  hearts 

from  being  still ' 

What  a  voiceless  despair,  what  a  tempest  of 
tears, 

What  a  perfect  rebellion  and  clamour  of  fears, 

What  murmurs  unchecked,  tempers  unrecon- 
ciled ! 

All  within  us,  but  faith,  is  disordered  and  wild. 

Yet  see  how  we  crouch  to  Thee,  Lord !  after 
all; 

We  wished  Thee  far  off  while  the  blow  did  not 
fall, 

And  now  our  sole  joy  is  to  feel  Thee  so 
near, 

And  we  fling  ourselves  down  on  Thy  lap  with- 
out fear. 

We  fling  ourselves  on  Thee  with  passionate 
trust ; 

Thou  a\t  always  most  loving  when  forced  to 
be  just ; 

And  our  ravings  and  tears  are  no  worse  in 
Thine  eyes, 

Than  the  newly-weaned  mountain-lamb's  piti- 
ful cries. 


2  28  THE    VIOLENCE    OF    GRIEF. 

Our  foolish  wild  words  are  some  worship  to 
Thee, 

Thou  hast  made  us  so,  Lord !  and  wouldst 
have  it  so  be  ; 

And  we  know,  when  our  hearts  the  most  bit- 
terly swell, 

Not  the  less  was  it  love  for  being  judgment  as 
well. 

Thy  knowledge   of  us  makes  Thy  pity  more 

deep  ; 
Our  knowledge    of  Thee  bids  us  trust  while 

we  weep  : 
For  it  is  when  we  weep  we  are  often  most  still ; 
They  who  mourn  most  keep  often  most  close 

to  Thy  will. 

Thou  wert  always  our  Father !  Each  sun  that 
arose 

Has  done  nothing  through  life  but  fresh  mer- 
cies disclose ; 

But  we  feel,  while  the  joy  of  our  life  is  laid  low, 

Thou  hast  ne'er  been  so  tender  a  Father  as  now. 


DEEP    GRIEF. 


DEEP  GRIEF. 

Days,  weeks,  and  months  have  gone,  O  Lord ! 

They  seemed  both  long  and  brief; 
Yet  darker  still  the  darkness  grows,' 

And  deeper  lies  the  grief. 

They  spoke  of  sorrow's  laws  and  ways, 

They  said  what  time  would  do; 
Wise-sounding  words  !  yet  have  they  been 

Most  bitterly  untrue. 

O  sorrow !  'tis  thy  law  to  feed 
On  what  should  be  relief; 

0  time  !  of  all  things  surely  thou 
Art  crudest  to  grief. 

They  tell  me  I  am  better  now 

That  tears  have  passed  away , 
Alas  !  those  earlier  days  of  tears 

Were  sunshine  to  to-day. 

The  mind  was  less  afraid  of  self, 
When  sorrow's  thoughts  grew  rank: 

1  he  sights  and  sounds  of  recent  grief 
Were  better  than  this  blank. 

Old  grief  is  worse  than  new  :  its  pain 
Is  deeper  in  the  heart; 


230  DEEP    GRIEF. 

The  dull  blind  ache  is  worse  to  bear 
Than  blow,  or  wound,  or  smart. 

Deeper  and  deeper  in  my  soul 
The  weight  of  grief  is  stealing, 

And,  strange  to  say,  I  feel  it  more 
When  it  has  sunk  past  feeling. 

O  grief !  when  thou  wert  fresh  and  sharp, 

Part  of  life  felt  thy  blow ; 
But,  grown  the  habit  of  my  heart, 

Thou  art  my  whole  life  now. 

Most  sovereign  when  least  sensible, 
Most  seen  when  out  of  sight, 

Thou  art  the  custom  of  the  day, 
And  the  haunting  of  the  night. 

Oh  that  they  would  not  comfort  me ! 

Deep  grief  cannot  be  reached  ; 
Wisdom,  to  cure  a  broken  heart, 

Must  not  be  wisdom  preached. 

Deep  grief  is  better  let  alone ; 

Voices  to  it  are  swords  ; 
A  silent  look  will  soothe  it  more 

Than  the  tenderness  of  words. 

Oh  speak  not !   I  will  do  my  work, 
Nay,  more  work  than  my  share ; 

For  to  feel  that  it  is  idle  grief 
Is  what  deep  grief  cannot  bear. 


GRIEF    AND    LOSS.  23  I 

Deep  grief  is  not  a  past  event, 

It  is  a  life,  a  state, 
Which  habit  makes  more  terrible, 

And  age  more  desolate. 

But  am  I  comfortless  ?     Oh  no  ! 

Jesus  this  pathway  trod  ; 
And  deeper  in  my  soul  than  grief 

Art  Thou,  my  dearest  God  ! 

Good  is  that  darkening  of  our  lives, 

Which  only  God  can  brighten  : 
But  better  still  that  hopeless  load, 

Which  none  but  God  can  lighten. 


GRIEF  AND  LOSS. 

Lord  !  art  Thou  weary  of  my  cry, 
My  unrepressed  complaint  ? 

The  more  Thy  hand  upholdeth  me 
The  more  I  seem  to  faint. 

Alas  !  had  ever  grief  of  man 
Such  discontent  as  mine  ? 

Yet  how  I  crave  to  have  my  will 
Simply  content  with  Thine  : 

Bear  with  me.  patient  God  of  Job  ! 
Bear  with  Thy  weakly  child  ; 


212  GRIEF  AND    LOSS. 


My  thoughts  are  fevered  with  my  grief, 
My  heart  is  going  wild. 

From  some  abyss  these  causeless  bursts 

Of  stormy  sorrow  flow  ; 
It  seems  as  if  nor  outward  thing, 

Nor  inward,  brought  the  woe. 

All  of  itself  it  comes,  and  sweeps 

The  landmarks  quite  away  ; 
And  these  sudden  tempests  mostly  come 

On  the  eve  of  a  quiet  day. 

There  is  some  change  within  my  grief, 

Some  shifting  of  my  cross  : 
What  overweights  me  is  not  grief, 

It  is  the  sense  of  loss. 

What  was  a  grief  is  now  a  loss, 

A  stationary  want, 
An  absence  felt  in  every  room, 

In  each  familiar  haunt. 

My  God  !  how  petulant  I  am, 

How  hard  to  please  in  grief, 
For  ever  making  fresh  complaint 

Of  what  should  be  relief  ! 

But,  Lord  !  Thou  lovest  we  should  speak, 
Nor  silent  bear  our  pain, 


GRIEF  AND    LOSS.  233 

The  look  of  Thy  forbearing  love 
Allures  us  to  complain. 

Oh  loss  is  grief's  most  joyless  side, 

Grief's  least  religious  state  : 
'Tis  sorrow  most  unreconciled, 

Because  most  like  to  fate. 

Loss  is  a  sense  upon  whose  nerve 
Life's  ceaseless  weight  must  press, 

A  pain  too  dull  and  equable 
To  vary  its  distress. 

Loss  is  a  thing  so  multiplied, 

So  many-shaped  a  grief, 
So  echoing  every  sound  of  life, 

That  there  is  no  relief. 

I  seemed  to  have  him  while  I  grieved; 

At  least  grief  was  no  void ; 
In  some  strange  way  the  vehement  woe 

My  sinking  spirits  buoyed. 

Fresh  grief  can  occupy  itself 

With  its  own  recent  smart  ; 
It  fee  Is  itself  on  outward  things, 

And  not  on  its  own  heart 

New  sorrow  never  goads  :  it  seems 
To  fill  and  occupy  ; 


234  GRIEF  AND    LOSS. 

But  I  am  goaded  to  despair 
By  this  blind  vacancy  : 

And  then  it  is  such  calm  despair, 
Such  a  mute  and  passive  pain, 

That  they  who  love  me  smile,  and  say,- 
That  I  am  myself  again  ! 

I  move  about,  and  do  my  work, 

That  old  routine  of  yore  ; 
But,  if  I  seem  to  sorrow  less, 

It  is  to  miss  him  more. 

When  I  have  missed  him  most  all  day, 

I  have  him  in  my  dreams ; 
And  then  how  worse  than  the  first  loss 

The  dismal  waking  seems  ! 

This  sense  of  loss, — oh  can  it  last  ? 

Or,  if  it  lasts,  be  borne  ? 
The  extremity  that  comes  at  night 

Has  a  worse  extreme  at  morn. 

My  sorrow  could  defend  itself, 
Or  at  least  could  live  apart ; 

But  the  loss  intrudes  from  every  side 
On  my  defenceless  heart. 

The  present  is  so  like  the  past, 
Yet  so  terribly  unlike, 


GRIEF  AND    LOSS.  235 

That  all  life's  touches  do  not  touch, 
But  cut  and  bruise  and  strike. 

If  it  was  more  unbearable 

So  stormily  to  grieve, 
The  hopelessness  of  my  great  loss 

Is  harder  to  believe  : — 

Worse  to  believe, — and  yet  alas  ! 

Worse  to  be  borne  as  well, 
Because  it  makes  life  felt  to  be 

So  quite  impossible. 

Is  it,  O  Lord !  that  I  too  much 
On  creature's  love  have  leaned  ? 

Else  why  this  void  of  all  things  now, 
This  pain  of  being  weaned  ? 

Sorrow  by  its  own  nature  is 

In  league  with  self-deceit: 
Its  very  grace  improves  its  skill 

More  grace  to  counterfeit. 

Sorrow  indulged  must  always  make 

The  grace  within  us  less  ; 
Man's  sorrow  at  its  best  must  be 

A  form  of  selfishness,— 

The  gracefulest  of  all  self-loves, 

But  a  self-worship  still, 
A  waste  of  heart  whose  deepest  depths 

It  is  Thy  right  to  till. 


236  THE    SHADOW   OF    THE    ROCK. 

Faith  does  not  know  of  empty  hearts  ; 

They  should  be  full  of  Thee, 
And  to  be  full  of  Thee  alone 

Is  their  eternity. 

All  life  is  loss  ;  for  it  delays 

The  vision  of  Thy  Face : 
Vet  nothing,  Lord  !  is  lost  to  him 

Who  hath  not  lost  Thy  grace. 


THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ROCK, 

The  Shadow  of  the  Rock  ! 
Stay,  Pilgrim!  stay  ! 
Night  treads  upon  the  heels  of  day; 
There  is  no  other  resting-place  this  way. 
The  Rock  is  near, 
The  well  is  clear, 
Rest  in  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock. 

The  Shadow  of  the  Rock! 
The  Desert  wide 
Lies  round  thee  like  a  trackless  tide, 
In  waves  of  sand  forlornly  multiplied. 
The  sun  is  gone, 
Thou  art  alone. 
Rest  in  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock. 


THE    SHADOIV   OF    THE    ROCK.         237 

The  Shadow  of  the  Rock, 
All  come  alone. 
All,  ever  since  the  sun  hath  shone, 
Who  travelled  by  this  road  have  come  alone. 
Be  of  good  cheer, 
A  home  is  here, 
Rest  in  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock. 

The  Shadow  of  the  Rock! 
Night  veils  the  land  : 
How  the  palms  whisper  as  they  stand  ! 
How  the  well  tinkles  faintly  through  the  sand  ! 
Cool  water  take 
Thy  thirst  to  slake, 
Rest  in  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock. 

The  Shadow  of  the  Rock  ! 
Abide  !  Abide  ! 
This  Rock  moves  ever  at  thy  side, 
Pausing  to  welcome  thee  at  eventide. 
Ages  are  laid 
Beneath  its  shade, 
Rest  in  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock. 

The  Shadow  of  the  Rock! 
Always  at  hand. 
Unseen  it  cools  the  noon-tide  land. 
And  quells  the  fire  that  flickers  in  the  sand. 


238   THE    SHADOW  OF   THE    ROCK 

It  comes  in  sight 
Only  at  night, 
Rest  in  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock. 

The  Shadow  of  the  Rock ! 

Mid  skies  storm-riven 

It  gathers  shadows  out  of  heaven, 

And  holds  them  o'er  us  all  night  cool  and  even. 

Through  the  charmed  air 

Dew  falls  not  there, 

Rest  in  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock. 

The  Shadow  of  the  Rock! 
To  angel's  eyes 
This  Rock  its  shadow  multiplies, 
And  at  this  hour  in  countless  places  lies. 
One  Rock,  one  Shade, 
O'er  thousands  laid, 
Rest  in  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock. 

The  Shadow  of  the  Rock! 
To  weary  feet, 
That  have  been  diligent  and  fleet, 
The  sleep  is  deeper  and  the  shade  more  sweet. 

O  weary !  rest, 
Thou  art  sore  pressed, 
Rest  in  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock. 

The  Shadow  of  the  Rock ! 
Thy  bed  is  made ; 


A    CHILD'S    DEATH.  239 

Crowds  of  tired  souls  like  thine  are  laid 
This  night  beneath  the  self-same  placid  shade. 

They  who  rest  here 

Wake  with  heaven  near, 
Rest  in  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock. 

The  Shadow  of  the  Rock ! 
Pilgrim  !  sleep  sound  ; 
In  night's  swift  hours  with  silent  bound 
The  Rock  will  put  thee  over  leagues  of  ground, 
Gaining  more  way 
By  night  than  day ; 
Rest  in  the  Shadow  of  the  Roclc 

The  Shadow  of  the  Rock  ! 
One  day  of  pain 
Thou  scarce  wilt  hope  the  Rock  to  gain, 
Yet  there  wilt  sleep  thy  last  sleep  on  the  plain  ; 
And  only  wake 
In  heaven's  day-break, 
Rest  in  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock. 


A  CHILD'S   DEATH. 

Thou   touchest   us   lightly,    O    God  !    in   our 

grief ; 
But  how  rough  is  Thy  touch  in  our  prosperous 

hours ! 


240  A    CHILD'S   DEATH. 

All  was  bright,  but  Thou  earnest,  so  dreadful 

and  brief, 
Like  a  thunderbolt  falling  in  gardens  of  flowers. 

My  children  !  My  children  !  they  clustered  all 

round  me, 
Like   a   rampart   which    sorrow   could     never 

break  through ; 
Each  change  in  their  beautiful  lives  only  bound 

me 
In  a  spell  of  delight  which  no  care  could  undo. 

But  the  eldest !  O  Father  !  how  glorious  he 
was, 

With  the  soul  looking  out  through  his  fountain- 
like eyes  : 

Thou  lovest  Thy  Sole-born  !  And  had  I  not 
cause 

The  treasure  Thou  gavest  me,  Father!  to 
prize  ? 

But  the  lily-bed  lies  beaten  down  by  the  rain, 
And  the  tallest  is  gone  from  the  place  where 

he  grew ; 
My  tallest !  my  fairest !  Oh  let  me  complain  ; 
For  all  life  is  unroofed,  and  the  tempests  beat 

through. 


A   CHILD  >S  DEA  TH.  2  4 1 

I  murmur  not,  FatherTMy  will  is  with  Thee  • 
I  knew  at  the  first,  that  my  darling  was  Thine  :' 
Hadst  Thou  taken  him  earlier,  O  Father,— but 

see! 
Thou  hadst  left  him  so  long  that  I  dreamed  he 

was  mine. 

Thou  hast  taken  the  fairest:  he  was  fairest  to 
me; 

Thou  hast  taken  the  fairest:  'tis  always  Thy 
way; 

Thou  hast  taken  the  dearest:  was  he  dearest 
to  Thee  ? 

Thou  art  welcome,  thrice  welcome  :— yet  woe 
is  the  day ! 

Thou  hast  honored  my  child  by  the  speed  of 

Thy  choice, 
Thou  hast  crowned  him  with  glory,  o'erwhelmed 

him  with  mirth  : 
He  sings  up  in  heaven  with  his  sweet-soundin- 

voice,  ° 

While    I,  a  saint's   mother,   am  weeping  on 
earth.  b 

Yet  oh  for  that  voice,  which  is  thrilling  through 

heaven,  a 

One   moment  my  ears  with  its  music  to  slake  I 
16 


242  A     CHILD'S    DEATH. 

Oh  no !  not  for  worlds  would  I  have  him  re- 
given, 

Yet  I  long  to  have  back  what  I  would  not  re- 
take. 

I  grudge  him,  and  grudge  him  not !  Father ! 
Thou  knowest 

The  foolish  confusions  of  innocent  sorrow ; 

It  is  thus  in  Thy  husbandry,  Saviour!  Thou 
sowest 

The  grief  of  to-day  for  the  grace  of  to-mor- 
row. 

Thou  art  blooming  in  heaven,  my  Blossom,  my 
Pride  ! 

And  thy  beauty  makes  Jesus  and  Angels  more 
glad: 

Saints'  mothers  have  sung  when  their  eldest- 
born  died, 

Oh  why,  my  own  saint !  is  thy  mother  so 
sad? 

Go,  go  with  thy  God,  with  thy  Saviour,  my 

child  ! 
Thou  art  His  ;   I  am  His  ;  and   thy  sisters  are 

His: 
But  to-day   thy  fond   mother   with    sorrow   is 

wild  !— 
To  think  that  her  son  is  an  angel  in  bliss  ! 


THE    LAXD    BEYOXD    THE    SEA.      243 

Oh   forgive    me,   dear  Saviour !    on   heaven's 

bright  shore 
Should  I  still  in  my  child  find  a  separate  joy : 
While  I  lie  in  the  light  of  Thy  Face  evermore, 
May  I  think  heaven  brighter  because  of  my 
'  boy  ? 


THE  LAND  BEYOND  THE  SEA. 

The  Land  beyond  the  Sea ! 

When  will  life's  task  be  o'er  ? 

When  shall  we  reach  that  soft  blue  shore, 

O'er  the  dark  strait  whose  billows  foam  and 

roar  ? 
When  shall  we  come  to  thee, 
Calm  Land  beyond  the  Sea  ? 

The  Land  beyond  the  Sea  ! 

How  close  it  often  seems, 

When  flushed  with  evening's  peaceful  gleams ; 

And  the  wistful  heart  looks  o'er  the  strait,  and 

dreams ! 
It  longs  to  fly  to  thee, 
Calm  Land  beyond  the  Sea ! 

The  Land  beyond  the  Sea  ! 
Sometimes  distinct  and  near 
It  grows  upon  the  eye  and  ear, 


244       THE    LAND    BEYOND    THE    SEA. 

And  the  gulf  narrows  to  a  threadlike  mere ; 
We  seem  half  way  to  thee, 
Calm  Land  beyond  the  Sea ! 

The  Land  beyond  the  Sea ! 

Sometimes  across  the  strait, 

Like  a  drawbridge  to  a  castle  gate, 

The  slanting  sunbeams  lie,  and  seem  to  wait 

For  us  to  pass  to  thee, 

Calm  Land  beyond  the  Sea ! 

The  Land  beyond  the  Sea ! 

Oh  how  the  lapsing  years, 

Mid  our  not  unsubmissive  tears, 

Have  borne,  now  singly,  now  in  fleets,  the  biers 

Of  those  we  love  to  thee, 

Calm  Land  beyond  the  Sea ! 

The  Land  beyond  the  Sea ! 
How  dark  our  present  home  \ 
By  the  dull  beach  and  sullen  foam 
How  wearily,  how  drearily  we  roam, 
With  arms  outstretched  to  thee, 
Calm  Land  beyond  the  Sea  ! 

The  Land  beyond  the  Sea  ! 
When  will  our  toil  be  done  ? 
Slow-footed  years  !  more  swiftly  run 


THE    SHORE    OF  ETERNITY.  245 

Into  the  gold  of  that  unsetting  sun ! 

Homesick  we  are  for  thee, 
Calm  Land  beyond  the  Sea! 

The  Land  beyond  the  Sea! 

Why  fadest  thou  in  light  ? 

Why  art  thou  better  seen  towards  night  ? 

Dear  Land !    look   always  plain,   look  always 

bright, 
That  we  may  gaze  on  thee, 
Calm  Land  beyond  the  Sea! 

The  Land  beyond  the  Sea! 

Sweet  is  thine  endless  rest, 

But  sweeter  far  that  Fathers  Breast 

Upon  thy  shores  eternally  possest; 

For  Jesus  reigns  o'er  thee, 

Calm  Land  beyond  the  Sea  ! 


THE    SHORE    OF   ETERNITY. 
Alone  !  to  land  alone  upon  that  shore  ! 
With  no  one  sight  that  we  have  seen  before,- 

Things  of  a  different  hue, 

And  the  sounds  all  new, 
And  fragrances  so  sweet  the  soul  mav  faint 
Alone  !  Oh  that  first  hour  cf  being  a  saint ! 


246  THE   SHORE    OF  ETERNITY. 

Alone  !  to  land  alone  upon  that  shore  ! 

On  which  no  wavelets  lisp,  no  billows  roar. 
Perhaps  no  shape  of  ground, 
Perhaps  no  sight  or  sound, 

No  forms  of  earth  our  fancies  to  arrange, — 

But  to  begin  alone  that  mighty  change ! 

Alone  !  to  land  alone  upon  that  shore  ! 
Knowing  so  well  we  can  return  no  more  : 

No  voice  or  face  of  friend, 

None  with  us  to  attend 
Our  disembarking  on  that  awful  strand, 
But  to  arrive  alone  in  such  a  land ! 

Alone  !  to  land  alone  upon  that  shore : 
To  begin  alone  to  live  for  evermore, 
To  have  no  one  to  teach 
The  manners  or  the  speech 
Of  that  new  life,  or  put  us  at  our  ease  : — 
Oh  that  we  might  die  in  pairs  or  companies ! 

Alone!     No!  God  hath  been  there  long  before, 
Eternally  hath  waited  on  that  shore 

For  us  who  were  to  come 

To  our  eternal  home  ; 
And  He  hath  taught  His  angels  to  prepare 
In  what  way  we  are  to  be  welcomed  there. 

Like  one  that  waits  and  watches  He  hath  sate, 
As  if  there  were  none  else  for  whom  to  wait, 


1 


THE    SHORE    OF   ETERNITY,  247 

Waiting  for  us,  for  us 
Who  keep  him  waiting  thus, 

And  who  bring  less  to  satisfy  His  love 

Than  any  other  of  the  souls  above. 

Alone  ?    The  God  we  know  is  on  that  shore, 
The  God  of  whose  attractions  we  know  moi  e 
Than  of  those  who  may  appear 
Nearest  and  dearest  here  : 
Oh  is  He  not  the  life-long  friend  we  know 
More  privately  than  any  friend  below  ? 

Alone  ?     The  God  we  trust  is  on  that  shore, 
The  Faithful  One  whom  we  have  trusted  more 
In  trials  and  in  woes 
Than  we  have  trusted  those 
On  whom  we  leaned  most  in  our  earthly  strife, — 
Oh  we  shall  trust  Him  more  in  that  new  life  ! 

Alone  ?     The  God  we  love  is  on  that  shore, 

Love  not  enough,  yet  whom  we  love  far  more, 
And  whom  we've  loved  all  through, 
And  with  a  love  more  true 

Than   other  loves, — yet  now  shall  love   Him 
more : — 

True  love  of  Him  begins  upon  that  shore  ! 

So  not  alone  we  land  upon  that  shore : 
'Twill  be  as  though  we  had  been  there  before  ; 


248  PARADISE. 

We  shall  meet  more  we  know 

Than  we  can  meet  below, 
And  find  our  rest  like  some  returning  dove, 
And  be  at  home  at  once  with  our  Eternal  Love  J 


PARADISE. 

O  Paradise  !  O  Paradise  ! 

Who  doth  not  crave  for  rest  ? 
Who  would  not  seek  the  happy  land, 
Where  they  that  loved  are  blest ; 
Where  loyal  hearts  and  true, 
Stand  ever  in  the  light, 
All  rapture  through  and  through, 
In  God's  most  holy  sight  ? 

O  Paradise  !  O  Paradise  ! 

The  world  is  growing  old ; 
Who  would  not  be  at  rest  and  free 
Where  love  is  never  cold, 
Where  loyal  hearts,  and  true, 
Stand  ever  in  the  light, 
All  rapture  through  and  through, 
In  God's  most  holy  sight  ? 

O  Paradise  !  O  Paradise  ! 

Wherefore  doth  death  delay, 
Bright  death,  that  is  the  welcome  dawn 

Of  our  eternal  day ; 


1 


PARADISE.  249 

Where  loyal  hearts,  and  true, 

Stand  ever  in  the  light, 
All  rapture  through  and  through, 

In  God's  most  holy  sight  ? 

0  Paradise  !  O  Paradise  ! 
'Tis  weary  waiting  here  ; 

1  long  to  be  where  Jesus  is, 
To  feel,  to  see  Him  near  ; 

Where  loyal  hearts,  and  true, 

Stand  ever  in  the  light. 
All  rapture  through  and  through, 

In  God's  most  holy  sight. 

0  Paradise  !  O  Paradise  ! 
I  want  to  sin  no  more  ; 

1  want  to  be  as  pure  on  earth 

As  on  thy  spotless  shore  ; 
Where  loyal  hearts,  and  true, 

Stand  ever  in  the  light, 
All  rapture  through  and  through, 
In  God's  most  holy  sight. 

O  Paradise  !   O  Paradise  ! 

I  greatly  long  to  see 
The  special  place  my  dearest  Lord 
Is  destining  for  me  ; 

Where  loyal  hearts,  and  true, 
Stand  ever  in  the  light, 


250  HEAVEN. 

All  rapture  through  and  through. 
In  God's  most  holy  sight 

O  Paradise !  0  Paradise ! 

I  feel  'twill  not  be  long ; 
Patience  !  I  almost  think  I  hear 
Faint  fragments  of  thy  song  ; 
Where  loyal  hearts,  and  true, 

Stand  ever  in  the  light, 
All  rapture  through  and  through, 
In  God's  most  holy  sight. 


HEAVEN. 

Oh  what  is  this   splendour  that  beams  on  me 
now, 
This  beautiful  sunrise  that  dawns   on   my 
soul, 
While  faint  and  far  off  land  and  sea  lie  be- 
low, 
And  under  my  feet  the  huge  golden  clouds 
roll? 

To  what  mighty  king  doth  this  city  belong, 
With  its  rich  jewelled  shrines,  and  its  gar- 
dens of  flowers, 


HEAVEN.  251 

With  its  breaths  of  sweet  incense,  its  measures 
of  song, 
And  the  light  that  is  gilding  its  numberless 
towers  ? 

See!     forth   from   the    gates,    like    a    bridal 
array, 
Come  the  princes  of  heaven,  how  bravely 
they  shine ! 
'Tis  to  welcome  the  stranger  to  show  me  the 
way, 
And  to  tell  me  that  all  I  see  round  me  is 
mine. 

There  are  millions  of  saints  in  their  ranks  and 
degrees, 
And  each  with  a  beauty  and  crown  of  his 
own ; 
And  there,  far  outnumbering  the  sands  of  the 
seas, 
The  nine  rings  of  Angels  encircle  the  throne. 

And  oh  if  the  exiles  of  earth  could  but  wir 

One  sight  of  the  beauty  of  Jesus  above, 
From  that  hour  they  would  cease  to  be  able 
to  sin, 
And  earth  would  be  heaven  ;  for  heaven  is 
love. 


252  HEAVEN. 

But   words   may   not    tell    of    the   Vision   of 
Peace, 
With  its  worshipful  seeming,  its  marvellous 
fires  ; 
Where  the  soul  is  at  large,  where  its  sorrows 
all  cease, 
And   the  gift  has  outbidden  its  boldest  de- 
sires. 

No  sickness  is  here,  no  bleak  bitter  cold, 
No  hunger,  debt,  prison,  or  weariful  toil ; 

No  robbers  to  rifle  our  treasures  of  gold, 
No  rust  to  corrupt,  and  no  canker  to  spoil. 

My  God  !  and  it  was  but  a  short  hour  ago 

That  I  lay  on  a  bed  of  unbearable  pains ; 
All  was  cheerless  around  me,  all  weeping  and 
woe; 
Now  the  wailing  is    changed   to   angelical 
strains. 

Because  I  served  Thee,  were  life's  pleasures  all 

lost? 
Was  it  gloom,  pain,  or  blood,  that  won  heaven 

for  me  ? 
Oh    no  !     one    enjoyment    alone    could     life  I 

boast, 
And  that,  dearest  Lord  !  was  my  service  of  J 

Thee. 


HE  A  VEX. 


253 


I  had  hardly  to  give  ;  'twas  enough  to  receive, 
Only  not  to  impede  the  sweet  grace  from 
above ; 
And,  this  first  hour  in  heaven,   I   can  hardly 
believe 
In  so  orreat  a  reward  for  so  little  a  love. 


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